Black Magick
by Rhiannon Thanatos
Summary: Mihnea and Constance have spent their young lives growing up within the walls of the Hellsing Organization.  When they recieve an oportunity to attend a school of magic, they encounter more than they ever thought possible.  Sequel to Blood Heritage.
1. The Owl

I don't own Harry Potter or Hellsing, and I'm not making any money from this.

Before I get started, I would like to give an introduction to any new readers who may be joining us for the first time._ Black Magick_ is the sequel to my story _Blood Heritage_, which is strictly a Hellsing fan fiction. I've written this so that it can be enjoyed on its own (hopefully ~crosses fingers~), but there are characters and concepts that were introduced in _Blood Heritage_ you may not recognize or understand without the initial back story.

For those of you who are familiar with _Blood Heritage _– this is going to be set up in a similar way. The vast majority of this will be following the children through the Harry Potter universe, so Hellsing will pretty much remain in the background until things start heating up later on. With me being the way I am, there are going to be a few changes made to plot lines. While I will try to remain true to the spirit of Hellsing and Harry Potter, some things will be slightly modified, some will be completely changed, and others will be cut out entirely. We're going to be covering **a lot **of material from the first year at Hogwarts all the way to the end of the series, so there is no possible way for me to include everything that happens. This is going to wind up being much longer than _Blood Heritage_, but I don't want it to drag on and on for hundreds of chapters.

With that said, please enjoy the story, and let me know what you think! :)

* * *

><p>It all started with an owl.<p>

Young Constance Hellsing could remember everything vividly. It had been a Thursday in the middle of July. The weather was hot and muggy, making everyone retreat to the safety of the air conditioners inside. She and her cousin, Mihnea, had just finished their math lesson for the day and her father, Edmund, was giving them a demonstration of how the knowledge of working figures could be useful in a practical sense. Connie **hated **everything to do with math. It was a trait she inherited from her mother. But watching her dad use relatively simple arithmetic to determine the correct proportions of household cleaners needed to build a small bomb gave her more of an appreciation for numbers. If she could use them to make things like that, then she didn't mind learning. It wasn't as though her parents allowed her to run around making pipe bombs and other explosives all the time. They would never do such a thing. The simple fact of the matter was that they made their home at the headquarters of the Hellsing organization. One never knew when such knowledge could be useful or necessary in a time of crisis. All the adults in the house wanted the children to be able to defend themselves if they had to.

It had been when Edmund was explaining the explosive properties of acetone when her aunt Syn came into the room. Syn Newsom was Hellsing's master gunsmith; responsible for the development and construction of all the custom weaponry they used, and designing the more general weapons which Ed mass produced in his factories, along with all the ammunition. Constance firmly believed the woman could do just about anything. As the only female Nahual anyone knew of, she would go out on particularly difficult missions with the soldiers to act as 'bait' to lure out the vampires. She was also quite an adept hunter herself. Mihnea often bragged about the number of vampire fangs his mother had collected over the years as trophies from her kills.

When the redhead closed the door behind her, they all noticed something particularly strange. There was a large, beautiful snowy owl perched on her arm. It couldn't have been a wild bird because it was behaving like an animal trained for a specific purpose. Mihnea's head immediately shot up in surprise.

"Where did that thing come from?" he asked.

His mother brushed a knuckle across the owl's feathered chest and gave Edmund a look. Connie recognized it as the one her aunt and her dad shared when they knew something everyone else didn't.

"Rebecca saw it outside tapping on one of the windows." she reported. "It was carrying letters."

Constance's father blinked. "You have **got **to be joking."

"But," the girl began, confused. "No one sends things by bird anymore."

Aunt Syn glanced at her. "The magical world still uses them."

That made the owl's presence even odder. Magical society wanted nothing to do with either of their families, so there was no reason for them to be sending anything to them. The redhead reached into the back pocket of her black cargo pants to retrieve two letters. It looked like they had been carried in the bird's beak. She passed one over to Edmund.

"That one was addressed to us." she told him. The other she held in her hand a moment longer, hesitating before extending it out to Mihnea. "This one is for you."

She looked both perplexed and concerned. It was an odd combination to see on her face, the young Hellsing thought. Constance had always believed her aunt knew everything about everything. Mihnea himself looked taken aback.

"**Me**?" he took the letter and studied it with caution. "What is it?"

The redhead shrugged. "It had your name on it, so I didn't open it." she replied. "But judging from the seal on the back, I'd say it's an acceptance letter from Hogwarts."

The boy just stared at her in bewilderment. "What's Hogwarts?"

Connie's dad had unfolded the letter Syn gave him to examine it. He looked up from his reading.

"It's one of the best schools of witchcraft in Europe." he said, then dropped the paper on the table and pinned it with a finger. "Connie is on their lists too."

"**What?**" the children exclaimed in unison.

"A school of magic..." Mihnea went on. "But mom, I thought we were exiled from their world?"

"We **are**." she said firmly. "Which is why I want to know what the hell is going on." she gestured to Edmund's letter. "This Dumbledore person seems to know everything about our situation and wants to discuss things with us personally. I think we might need to have a family meeting to figure out what to send back with this little guy."

The owl seemed to enjoy her petting him and let out a small cooing noise. Ed modded in agreement.

"I'll tell Integra."

* * *

><p>Constance and Mihnea's parents had a long, drawn out conversation about the letters. They eventually decided to listen to whatever the headmaster of Hogwarts had to say. Ed penned a message to arrange a time to meet and sent it back with the owl. When Professor Albus Dumbledore came to the manor two days later, he looked every bit like a wizard out of a fairy tale. Long white hair and beard, half-moon shaped glasses, and long, flowing robes of purple silk... he could have been Merlin from the stories of King Arthur. His twinkling blue eyes, kind smile, and pleasant demeanor made him an easy sort of person to approach and talk to. Nice, but with a small touch of eccentricity.<p>

Since the whole meeting was a discussion about them, the children were allowed to take part. The headmaster explained to them that he felt very strongly that every child who showed magical potential should be provided an education, regardless of who they were or where they came from. Apparently, that was a progressive and extraordinarily liberal attitude to have in the magical world. Mihnea and Constance had already displayed a remarkable amount of skill for their ages, he said, and would be excellent additions to his school. Their classes in witchcraft would provide a firm foundation for the higher level sorcery they learned at home, and would further cement the things they already knew. They could form friendships and gain contacts in the magical world that would be useful to them later on. That was probably the most attractive thing to Connie. She and Mihnea were privately tutored at the manor. The only social interaction they got with others their age was each other. Occasionally they would get to see the children of other knights during events thrown by the Queen, but that didn't really count. Everything else was with adults. She couldn't really complain about that, but it would be nice to be around others her age...

Of course, there were drawbacks. The Newsom family was ostracized and blacklisted from the magical world because of their inherent talent for black sorcery. Even dark witches and wizards thought that was something too evil to be touched. Hellsing wasn't seen as being much better. That they were an organization that hunted monsters was acceptable. The methods they used to **do** it were not. No one could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hellsing had vampires working for them, but it was strongly suspected. The Hellsing and Newsom families also had a centuries old association with each other, which was equally damning in their eyes. If Hellsing had Newsoms in their employ, they were probably using black magic. The government of magical society probably didn't like the idea of the organization being run by a muggle very much either. Long held beliefs going back for centuries weren't the sort of things that could be ignored. If the magical world as a whole knew who they were, there would be an enormous backlash.

If Constance and Mihnea went to Hogwarts, they would have to enroll under their fathers' surnames rather than their mothers'. As far as the matter of Mihnea being only half human went, the headmaster said it would be his business as to whether he revealed it or not. Hogwarts had never had a vampire within its walls, but they had several former students with lycanthropy, and one who had been half giant. Some had chosen to tell their friends, while others kept it a closely guarded secret. It was always a matter of personal preference.

When everything was boiled down to its simplest parts, the final decision fell on Mihnea's shoulders. Syn and Alucard's opinions on the matter were similar. He had to make the choice himself because he was the one who would have to deal with the consequences. The boy considered every small piece of information that had been presented, then made his decision. He wanted to go. It would be two years before Constance was old enough to attend, but the moment Mihnea made his choice, she piped up that she was going too. She wasn't about to let her cousin run off to a school in the magical world and leave her in the dust.

* * *

><p>The next two years of waiting were <strong>awful<strong>. Constance was used to her cousin being with her for everything and suddenly, he was gone except for winter and summer breaks. It was boring and lonely being the only young person in the house. But he sent back letters and told her stories about school when he was home. He described ceilings enchanted to show the sky outside, staircases that moved around at their whim, and ghosts that roamed the halls and talked to the students. It sounded like a wonderful and amazing place. When her time finally came, Connie was filled to the brim with excitement.

Her father was a member of the Newsom family but was situated on one of the branches of the family tree that gave him the benefit of a different last name. He was the one who had to take them to Diagon Alley to get school supplies. She got all her books, inks, quills, and parchment, and was fitted for two sets of school robes. Then it was time to purchase a wand. When they arrived at Olivander's, the young Hellsing thought she would go in, have a look around, and pick out one she fancied. She was shocked senseless when she had to submit to measurements taken by a living tape measure, then tried out various wands until she found one that chose her. It took a good deal of time, but she finally wound up with one made of pink ivory, ten inches long, with a phoenix feather core. The moment she stepped outside of the store, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Dear God, I had no idea it would be that complicated!" she glanced at Mihnea. "What kind do you have?"

He pulled it out. "Thirteen inches, burled bloodwood, with dragon heartstring." he announced proudly.

Her father sniffed. "Had a damn hard time finding it too." he glanced at Connie. "If you think you had it rough, you should have seen **him** trying out wands. There were only three left in the store he hadn't touched before he found that one."

_Wow._ And she thought going through twenty-seven was bad.

The next order of business was finding an animal companion. Aunt Syn had explained that witches and wizards sometimes had difficulty drawing up enough energy for their magic than those who used sorcery. An animal companion helped to stabilize their power, and they bonded with their owners better when obtained at a young age. Constance didn't technically **need **one, but it was a wonderful excuse to have a pet at school.

"Don't get a toad." Mihnea warned. "Only the stupid kids have toads. Pixie would just eat it anyway."

Pixie was the cat he had gotten during his first year shopping excursion. She was a lovely, sleek Ashera – about the size of a medium-sized dog, with black-ringed spots that made her look like a small leopard. She got her name from her habit of running around and making spritely leaps into the air, as if trying to fly. One of her favorite past times was using Alucard's legs as scratching posts, then curling up in his lap to make adorable cat faces until he broke down and petted her. It annoyed the master vampire to no end.

"I don't know how your mother would feel about two cats running around." her father said. "Especially with his being so damn big. How about an owl? You two could use it to send letters home without having to borrow someone else's."

It was a wonderful idea. A pet that would be useful as well. Connie scoured the store and happened across a bird that captured her attention. It was a rather distinguished looking Great Horned owl. The moment she laid eyes on him, she knew that was the one for her. When they got back home, Integra blinked at the sight of the large bird perched in his cage.

"Well, at least we'll know who it's from when it comes pecking at the windows." she commented, then gave her daughter a look. "He's your responsibility, Constance. I don't want him flying around the house making messes everywhere."

The girl nodded. Her mother had given Mihnea a similar lecture when he first brought his cat home. She was very particular about the cleanliness of her house.

"I'll take care of him, I promise." she told her.

The knight nodded, then studied the owl. "Have you picked out a name?"

Connie thought about it. An owl like hers deserved a special sort of name.

"Archimedes." she decided.

Her Aunt Syn grinned. "I like it." she declared. "He does have a philosophical look, doesn't he..."

Her words trailed off when Alucard's voice boomed out from somewhere in the manor.

"**Mihnea!** Get your goddamn cat before I shoot it!"

The boy looked absolutely horrified for a brief moment, then ran off to rescue Pixie from a violent death. Alucard probably wouldn't **actually** shoot her, but he could come up with a whole host of other terrible things to do to her.

Everything was ready. Now all that was left to do was wait.

* * *

><p>I would totally get an Ashera, but they're too damn expensive. Mihnea is just like his daddy. He has to have the biggest, baddest looking thing around. Even if it's just a kitty. :D<p>

We loves reviews!


	2. First Impressions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Of all the stories her cousin told her, nothing was really adequate preparation for seeing everything herself.

Hogwarts castle was located in the Scottish Highlands so they'd have to take a train to get there. The tickets they received via owl post indicated that the Hogwarts Express departed from King's Cross station in London. Constance had never been there, but her parents knew where it was. The oddest thing about it was that they would be leaving from platform nine and three quarters.

"How on **earth **can there be a platform nine and three quarters?" she asked when she saw it written on her ticket. "That's not possible, is it?"

"The magical world hides everything about itself from people who can't use magic." her father explained. "You have to walk through the wall that separates platforms nine and ten."

Connie made a face. "Then why is it called platform nine and three quarters instead of platform nine and one half?"

Her aunt sniffed. "There's no telling. They probably thought it sounded more interesting that way."

The redhead obviously didn't like most of the things done in the magical world. She thought the majority of their magic was frivolous. A waste of time and energy that was pure laziness on their part. Mihnea wasn't allowed to use his wand or perform magic aside from his sorcery lessons while he was home. Of course, he couldn't have done it anyway. The magical government had some sort of trace to regulate the use of witchcraft by people who were underage. Apparently, it couldn't detect their brand of magic.

When they arrived at the station they all said their goodbyes and Mihnea showed her how to get onto the platform. You simply pushed your trolly of luggage through the wall when no one was looking, then followed along behind it. Constance made it through without any problems. Once she passed through the magical barrier, she took in the sight of the train. It was an old fashioned steam locomotive with the engine painted bright red. She followed her cousin to the luggage car where all their things had to be dropped off. When everything was loaded up, he gathered Pixie up into his arms and turned to her.

"I have to stay up front in the Slytherin car." he told her. "First years have to sit in the cars at the back of the train."

Connie lifted a brow. That was strange. "The different houses aren't allowed to sit with each other?"

"Not really." Mihnea replied. "Some of the houses don't get along very well, so they try to stay separated so no one gets into a fight." he paused half a moment. "Most of the Slytherins come from pure-blood families and they think they're better than everyone else. They're usually the ones who start trouble."

The girl found that even weirder. Mihnea was a Slytherin, and he didn't act that way at all. But he obviously knew more about all this stuff than she did, so she decided to take him at his word. The two of them separated and Connie carried Archimedes' cage with her to the back of the train.

She had no idea how many first years there were, but it looked like a lot. The first few cars in their section were filled to the brim with students. As she went further back, she found that the divided sitting areas were more sparsely populated. Constance had no interest in being smushed into a small space like a sardine, so she chose one that had only two people inside. She pulled open the door and cleared her throat.

"Is it alright if I sit in here?" she asked politely.

A girl with bushy brown hair looked up from the book she was reading. "Of course. Sit wherever you like."

Connie entered the sitting area and carefully set her owl's cage in one of the seats next to her. The girl who invited her in closed her book and looked at Archimedes.

"Is that a messenger owl?" she asked. "I thought about getting one of those, but my mother is allergic to birds." she stuck out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

Her first instinct was to introduce herself the way she normally did. Then she remembered that she had to use her father's last name while she was around these people. She took the girl's hand.

"Constance Stryker."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Hermione said, then pointed at the boy sitting across from them. "That's Neville Longbottom." she leaned over to whisper. "I can't tell if the train is making him sick, or if he's just shy."

Indeed, the boy named Neville looked like he might have been suffering from a mild bout of motion sickness. But he also seemed nervous and spoke with a slight stutter. Since it was a lengthy ride, the three of them talked to pass the time. Neville was a pure-blooded wizard who lived with his grandmother. Apparently, he wasn't very good at magic because he said his family had been shocked when he received his acceptance letter. Hermione, on the other hand, was muggle-born. She was a nice enough person, if not a bit bossy. The girl had an attitude that reminded Constance somewhat of her aunt. She was highly intelligent, used a complicated vocabulary for her age, and absorbed the knowledge in books like a sponge. However, unlike Syn, she came across as a bit of a know-it-all. If she knew something, she had to make sure everyone around her **knew** she knew it. Connie was sure she didn't truly intend to rub people's noses in the fact she knew more than them, but the girl couldn't help it. When it was her turn to talk about where she came from, she had to think carefully about what to say. She finally decided her safest option was to stick with telling them that her mother was a muggle, and her father used magic. She was careful not to use the word 'wizard' in reference to him. Edmund definitely wasn't one, and she didn't feel right about out and out lying.

When they drew closer to the end of their journey, they decided it was probably best to change into their school robes. After taking his turn in the bathroom provided for their section, Neville came back looking panic-stricken.

"I can't find Trevor! Have either of you seen him?"

Hermione and Constance looked at each other, wondering what he was talking about.

"Who's Trevor?"

"My toad." he replied anxiously. "He's hopped off again... I have to find him before he gets stepped on!"

Oh goodness, she thought. Mihnea said only the stupid students brought toads to school with them. Neville was nice enough, but he did come off as being a wee bit thick in the head. The boy rushed out of the compartment and she glanced at Hermione.

"Maybe we should help him?"

The bushy haired girl looked thoughtful. "I suppose we should."

So the two girls left the compartment and split up to ask if anyone else had seen in the escaped amphibian.

* * *

><p>The Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop at a small station not far from the school just after nightfall. Connie still hadn't found the bloody toad, and Hermione and Neville were nowhere to be seen. Losing the animal on the first day was an awful thing to have happen, but she had her own business to take care of. Thankfully, when she finally caught sight of them again, she saw that the boy had recovered his pet. They were with two other first year boys who introduced themselves as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Harry was a short boy with dark, messy hair and green eyes. The barest hint of a scar could be seen just under his bangs. Ron was a bit taller, with ginger hair and a face full of freckles. Neville looked a bit dumbstruck when he heard Potter's name, and Constance couldn't for the life of her figure out why. Perhaps his family was well known or something. There wasn't really much time for talking because the lot of them were herded up by the enormous groundskeeper, Hagrid, and led off to the boats.<p>

Mihnea told Constance all about how the first year students always traveled to Hogwarts castle by enchanted boat. Their first sight of their new school was the most astonishingly beautiful thing she could imagine. The stone walls and high turrets looked like something out of a painting, thrusting up into the starry night sky. The inside was just as breathtaking as the exterior. The students stared at everything around them with wide eyes. The paintings on the walls had figures in them that actually moved and looked around at them. Occasionally, they would pass a suit of armor that would give them a graceful bow of greeting. When Hagrid led them up to a particular staircase, they were met by an older looking witch with dark hair, wearing flowing green robes. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress. She took over leading the group, and directed them into the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony.

The moment they entered the massive room, Constance glanced upwards to catch a glimpse of the enchanted ceiling she'd heard so much about. The cloudy night sky hung over their heads as if there were no roof built onto the room at all. Candles floating in the air provided all the light, and four of the longest tables she'd ever seen were set out, filled with all the older students. Banners bearing the house crests hung over each one. She caught sight of Mihnea sitting at the Slytherin table, watching their march down the middle of the tables intently. He told her once that she didn't have the qualities of his house, so she'd most likely be put in one of the others. They came to a halt at the front of the room – just in front of the teacher's table - and McGonagall set out a three-legged stool. Connie wasn't sure exactly how this whole 'sorting' process worked, but it looked like you sat on the stool, had a raggedy looking hat put on your head, then the thing would call out what house you belonged to. It was very strange. She didn't much like the idea of getting up in front of everyone and being gaped at like a fish in a tank, but it had to be done. When her name was called, she stepped forward to take her place on the stool, and the hat was dropped down on her head.

Her eyes went wide when it started **talking**.

"Hmm... now this is **very** interesting." the hat said, seeming to think to itself. "I don't think I've ever had your sort before. Already so powerful. Strong and courageous..." It made it's decision. "Gryffindor!"

A cheer went up as she climbed down to join the others at her house's table. It was nice that everyone she had met so far had been placed there. Even Ron, when his turn came, was sorted into Gryffindor. Once all the students were placed into their houses, a grand feast magically appeared on the tables and they were free to start eating. Everyone spoke to each other -the new students learning the names and faces of the others, and the older ones answering questions and giving them tips about how to handle their classes. It immediately became apparent from the way people spoke that the Gryffindors and Slytherins abhorred each other. She didn't hear one kind thing said about her cousin's house. Then, when Mihnea's name was specifically mentioned, her ears pricked up.

"That one over there? That's Mihnea Bassarab. He's one you'll want to stay away from."

Constance shot a glance in the direction the comment had come from. It was either Fred or George – the twins who were Ron's brothers. They were identical, so it was impossible for her to figure out which one had said it. She found the warning incredibly odd. She'd lived with Mihnea all her life, and he wasn't the sort to bully people around. Now, he **did** have a lot of his father in him so he could be intimidating if someone wasn't used to him, but that didn't really warrant telling others to stay clear of him...

"Why?" she asked. "Is he bad about bothering people?"

The twins looked at each other. "Nah, he doesn't really **bother** people." one of them said. "He's just... weird. Keeps to himself and doesn't talk much."

"He makes the other Slytherins nervous." the other twin said. "Even the ones older than him. When Slytherins are afraid of one of their own, you know he has to be a pretty scary bloke."

_Huh._ She thought. _Interesting._ She'd have to ask him about that later.

* * *

><p>The two of them had made plans to meet up later that night so he could show her around. When the first years were escorted up to the Gryffindor common rooms by their prefect – who was another of Ron's brothers – she had to wait a few hours for everyone to settle down and go to sleep. Once she was sure everyone was tucked away in their beds, she snuck out the portrait hole entrance to go out into the corridor outside. The moment the Fat Lady's picture closed behind her, Mihnea jumped down from a sculpture he had been perched on. It scared the devil out of her.<p>

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed as quietly as she could. "Are you **trying** to kill me?"

Her cousin just grinned at her. "You're a member of the enemy house now." he teased. "Scaring you is part of my job."

Constance rolled her eyes. "I didn't choose that." she said, then looked at him curiously. "I heard the people around here are scared of you. Even your own house."

Mihnea shrugged. "The Slytherins are scared of me because they know I don't like most of them. I kicked a third year's ass for being a bastard my first year here. They know I could take them down if I wanted to, so they leave me alone." he told her. "The rest of the school doesn't like Slytherins in general, so they don't know what to think of me."

Connie's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about him getting into a fight before.

"Do your parents know about that?"

"Yes." he replied. "Dad thought it was funny as hell."

_Well, Alucard would think that, wouldn't he?_ She thought. As they began walking down the hallway, she gave him a sideways glance.

"Why don't you like most of the people in your house?" she questioned.

"I told you. Slytherins are mostly pure-bloods who think they're better than everyone else." he told her. "They're obnoxious, snotty, and mean."

"How did **you** get lumped in with them then?"

"Because Slytherin is known as the house of people who are intimidating, sneaky, and willing to do anything they have to do to get what they want." he replied with another shrug. "It just turns out that most people who are like that happen to be pompous assholes too."

She had to suppress the urge to giggle. Now, **that **sounded like him. They reached the staircase that led down to the main part of the castle, and Mihnea turned and gestured for her to climb onto his back.

"You're too loud." he told her quietly. "If Peeves catches us, he'll wake up the whole castle."

He always had her ride on his back when they snuck around the manor. Her cousin was as quiet as a mouse, and could break into a full run without making a bit of noise. One of the many vampiric traits he got from his dad. So Constance jumped onto his back and off they went to explore the castle.

* * *

><p>A.N: I'm sure there is a more historically correct surname out there for Mihnea to be using, but I like 'Bassarab' the best. It's prettyful and it flows well. :)<p>

And I know the whole Slytherin/Gryffindor thing has probably been overdone, but I cant imagine anyone from the Hellsing family not being sorted into Gryffindor, and anyone from Alucard's bloodline not being put in Slytherin.

Then again, if Seras ever went to Hogwarts, she'd probably be put in Hufflepuff.


	3. Potions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Getting around Hogwarts wasn't the easiest thing to do. Even if you knew exactly where you were going, the staircases would move around, sending you off in a direction you hadn't intended on going. Sometimes doors would shut and lock themselves, only opening again at a polite request said in just the right manner. Constance found herself wondering if the castle itself was actually alive and putting them through some sort of hazing ritual. The older students didn't have nearly as much trouble as the first years did.

In all the confusion of trying to find classes in the midst of all these obstacles, it was almost impossible not to be late. It wasn't a matter of 'if' but 'when'. If Peeves caught someone in the halls running behind schedule, he would drop a garbage bin on their head and cackle in delight at their misfortune. Then, when you finally found the room your class was held in, you'd get in trouble for not being on time. All the excuses in the world didn't matter. If you were late to class, you got a lecture – end of story. Since all the Gryffindors took their classes together, the whole thing was made simpler. If they traveled in a group, then they all arrived at the same place at the same time. Only those that slept in or went off to do something between classes got left behind.

Most of the classes, once they located them, were quite enjoyable. At least, Connie thought so. Her first classes of the day were Transfiguration and Charms. The class taught by Professor McGonagall seemed to strictly deal with spells that changed changed the properties of something. Charms was focused on... well... everything else, she supposed. The first lesson they got in both of those classes was the importance of correct pronunciation. Most spells taught at Hogwarts had a Latin or Greek root, while others were bastardized versions of the languages. Rather than being actual words or phrases, they just followed the same spelling and grammatical rules. But pronunciation was vitally important, they were told. To say a spell wrong would cause it to either not work at all, or make the magic backfire and do something awful to you. Constance made a mental note to practice all the spells she learned extensively before ever touching her wand. The last thing she wanted to do was go home at Christmas with horns growing out of her head or something.

Her two least favorite classes so far were Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic. Magical History was taught by a ghost who drawled on and on in a monotone voice. It was hard to listen to him for long periods of time without falling asleep. Most of the class was unconscious and drooling all over their desks by the time his first lecture was over. Defense Against the Dark Arts actually covered a lot of material that could be useful, but the teacher drove Constance absolutely batty. Professor Quirrel had a heavy stutter that made it difficult to discern what he was saying. He wore a tightly wrapped turban around his head, and a god-awful smell wafted out from it, making her want to gag when she got too close. She overheard one of the first year Hufflepuffs say that he took to stuffing garlic in there after fighting off a vampire during one of his travels. The girl found the idea of that preposterous. If that man had ever encountered a vampire, he'd be dead, not walking around with kitchen spices packed into his hat. Even though the notion of thinking that garlic would protect against anything other than low level vampires was ridiculous, surely he would have enough sense to change out the cloves once they started going bad. His turban gave off a **rotten** smell, like something had crawled up inside it and died. Maybe that was what gave him such a creepy vibe. Most of the other students seemed to think he was alright aside from being a little strange, but he rubbed Connie the wrong way. She made sure to sit as close to the back of the room as she could possibly get.

Then came Potions, and she came **alive**.

The Potions Master, Professor Snape, was the head of Slytherin house. He was an intimidating looking man, dressed out in full black. His shoulder length black hair appeared to have a slightly greasy sheen to it – probably from leaning over the heat of a cauldron for long periods of time, she thought. He seemed to have a talent for controlling his students with very little effort. When he opened his mouth, everyone stopped talking and paid attention to him. It immediately became apparent that he favored his own students and didn't like the Gryffindors at all. He pointedly ignored Hermione every time she raised her hand to answer a question, and it seemed that he enjoyed asking Harry a whole host of things he knew the boy couldn't answer. Of course, Potter **should** have read his textbook over the summer, but most students didn't look at them until classes started. Young Constance pegged Severus Snape as the sort of person who didn't make things easy. If you wanted the grade and his respect, you had to earn it by jumping into the fire and dealing with whatever he threw at you. Life and lessons at Hellsing were like that. Once they got the basics down, she and her cousin were given problems and expected to figure them out on their own – coming up with creative solutions based on the things they knew.

The other thing about Potions that made it different from every other class at Hogwarts was that it was **very** similar to some of the sorcery lessons she had gotten at home. There were no wands and no spells. Just mixing various materials together to achieve the desired effect. When the Professor gave his opening speech, Connie thought it could have been her dad or aunt Syn up there talking. They used phrases like 'subtle science and exact art' about sorcery as well. **This**. This was something she could do, and do well.

Professor Snape immediately set them to work on their first assignment. They had to work individually to brew a simple sleeping drought. The instructions for it were in their textbooks, and he provided all the needed materials. However, as Constance was looking through all of them to double check that everything was right, she noticed something. The mugwort Snape gave them was bad. It wasn't something that would be recognized if you didn't know what to look for. It was an extremely subtle smell – the odor of mold beginning to set in. She had the distinct impression that this was deliberate. The professor had already shown he liked to torture students, so it was likely he gave them bad ingredients just to see if they would catch it. If it was a test to see how many of them were paying attention, then she couldn't really point it out to the entire class. This was an individual assignment after all. But if she brewed a potion that wasn't viable, or didn't brew a potion at all, she would probably get a failing grade. That was unacceptable. However, one of the many lessons she got at home was how certain ingredients could be substituted if others weren't available. Connie had brought all those notes with her to school just in case they might be useful. So she reached into her bag to retrieve her notebook of correspondences and went to work.

* * *

><p>When all their classes were over for the day, the Gryffindors went down to the Great Hall for supper. Most of the conversations going around were about the events of the day. Harry had gotten into a fight with a Slytherin boy named Draco Malfoy during their flying lesson, and was now suddenly the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quiddich team. Connie was listening to some of the older students explaining the rules of the sport. It was the strangest game she'd ever heard of. How on earth was one supposed to keep things straight with four balls flying around?<p>

"Bloody hell, Snape's coming over here!" Ron exclaimed, looking nervous. "What does he want?"

Sure enough, Professor Snape was striding toward the Gryffindor table, his black robes billowing behind him. All the students went still, wondering who amongst them had done something to get in trouble.

He came to a halt right behind Constance.

"I want you in my office, Miss Stryker." he said in his deep, intimidating voice. "Now."

Every eye at the table shot to her. She looked up at the Potions Master and swallowed.

"Sir?"

"I don't believe I stuttered. Get up and come to my office."

Constance obediently got up and moved to follow him out of the hall. When she glanced back, the other members of her house looked horrified. Several were mouthing 'what did you do?' She shook her head to indicate she didn't know, then turned back around.

Snape's office wasn't far from his classroom down in the dungeons. The walls of the room were lined with shelves filled with books and potion ingredients. He pointed to a large chair across from a mahogany desk.

"Sit down."

Connie sat and remained perfectly still as he stepped behind the desk to take his own seat. He opened a drawer and brought out a glass container filled with blue fluid. He set it down in front of her.

"Miss Stryker, would you care to explain what **that** is?" he asked, pointing at it.

_Oh crap. _She drew in a deep breath. "I believe that's the potion I brewed in class today, sir."

His dark eyes narrowed. "That is not the potion I assigned." he said. "Why didn't you follow the instructions for your assignment?"

"The mugwort you gave us was stale, sir." she said carefully. "The potion wouldn't have worked if I used it."

Snape's voice became low and almost threatening. "Are you suggesting that I mistakenly laid out inadequate materials, Miss Stryker?"

Constance had to be careful how she responded or she would get herself in trouble. She cleared her throat.

"Actually, sir, I thought it may have been deliberate to see how many of us were paying attention." she told him honestly.

The man made no reaction to show whether that had been the case or not. "If you recognized one of the ingredients was wrong, why didn't you share the information with your classmates?"

"Because it was an individual assignment." she replied. "Anyone who read the textbook should have been able to figure out the mugwort was bad, and double checking materials before using them is just common sense. Since all of us were supposed to work on our own, I didn't feel it was my place to correct everyone else's mistake."

Professor Snape slowly arched a brow at her statement. "That doesn't explain why you took it upon yourself to change the recipe. Potion making is an exact science, Miss Stryker. I **hope **you're aware that the smallest change could produce unexpected and potentially dangerous results."

"Yes, sir." she replied with a nod. "But a low level sleeping drought is simple enough to allow for some deviation without becoming dangerous, and I checked for counter-indications with the other ingredients before replacing the mugwort with tansy..."

"**How?**" he asked, looking at her intently. "There aren't any substitution tables in the first year textbooks."

"I have a notebook I used during my lessons at home, sir."

Snape paused, looking slightly taken aback. "Do you have this notebook with you?"

Constance suddenly had the thought that she probably shouldn't have told him that last bit. But, she considered, there was nothing in there that would indicate her family used a different sort of magic. She only brought the notebooks with correspondence tables to school.

"Yes, sir." she replied. She dug around in her bag for a moment, then handed it over.

The Potions Master opened the notebook and slowly flipped through the pages. Connie remained silent, watching him as he glanced over the information inside. The further along he got, the more thoughtful he became.

"In the future, any substitutions or changes to your potions are to be cleared with me in advance." he told her, glancing up from the pages. "Do you understand me, Miss Stryker?"

She immediately nodded her assent, and he inclined his head.

"Good. Now, get out of my office."

That was it? No detention or house points taken away? He made no move to give her notebook back, but surely he would return it when he was finished reading. Constance knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Before Snape could change his mind, she gathered up her things and left.

* * *

><p>The moment she returned to the Gryffindor common room for the night, she was blasted with questions from all sides. What did Snape want? Did she get in trouble? How many points did she lose? When Connie explained what it had been about, Hermione looked puzzled.<p>

"That's odd." she said. "I wound up writing a scroll about how the bad mugwort would throw off the potion, but he didn't talk to **me** about it."

Well, Constance hadn't written anything at all. She had changed the whole recipe to make it work. Ron gave a start from his position in one of the chairs and gaped at them.

"Wait a minute! The git gave us bad mugwort!"

Hermione sniffed at him. "If you had read your book, you would have known that."

The ginger headed boy blinked. "Read the... who actually **reads **their bloody school books?"

"Anyone who doesn't want to get a big, fat T on all their assignments, that's who." the girl said snippily.

The Weasley twins, who had been listening in on the conversation from one of the side tables, looked over with mutual grins on their faces.

"Don't worry Ron." One said. "Snape gives T's to all the Gryffindors."

"Yeah, being stupid doesn't count for much with him. You'll just get one anyway."

"Hey!" Ron shouted. "I'm **not **stupid!"

Fred and George exchanged a look and burst out laughing. Connie was shaking her head at the whole thing when she caught sight of Professor McGonagall stepping in through the portrait hole. All the students took notice. Apparently, their head of house didn't visit them in there personally unless something was important.

"Miss Stryker, may I have a word?"

Jesus, what the devil was it now? At this rate, she'd be having a conversation with all her teachers about that damn potion. Feeling every eye in the room boring into the back of her skull, Connie rose from the couch and went over to her.

"Yes ma'am?"

McGonagall handed her a slip of parchment. "Your schedule has been changed."

Constance blinked at her. "What?"

The older woman smiled, looking proud for some reason. "It seems that Professor Snape believes you would be better suited to a higher level course." she told her. "Starting tomorrow, you're to join the third year potions class."

**Third year** potions? Snape was moving her up two levels? She glanced down at her new schedule. One of her other classes had been moved to allow for the change. She'd be in the double potions class first thing in the morning. That was the class Mihnea was in. At least she would know someone in there...

"He asked me to return this to you as well." Professor McGonagall said, holding out her notebook. Her eyes twinkled with approval. "Bravo, Miss Stryker. Professor Snape rarely shows such favor to a Gryffindor. You must have made an impression."

When her head of house left, Constance was still staring down at the parchment in her hand. She had **never** expected something like this to come out of that meeting... She finally went back to sit down on the couch, still too shocked to say anything.

"Connie?" Hermione asked, looking worried. "Connie, what happened?"

She silently passed over her new schedule. The girl read it, her eyes going wide.

"Third year potions!" she exclaimed. "Snape moved you to **third **year potions!"

"What?" the twins said in unison, coming over to get a look from behind the sofa. "Hey, that's our class!"

One of them climbed over the back of the couch and squeezed in between the two girls.

"The name's George." he said, making sure to distinguish which one he was. "We'll look out for you in there. You want to be lab partners?"

"Hey!" Fred shouted, grabbing his brother's shoulders to pull him back over. "What if **I **want to be her lab partner?"

"You should have been faster about it then. I asked first."

The two boys started rolling around the floor in a scuffle. It was more of a playful, mischievous thing than an actual fight. Constance finally came out of her stunned silence and rolled her eyes at them. If those two were going to be in her class, then it was definitely going to be interesting.


	4. Family Ties

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Sure enough, her first experience with third year potions proved to be interesting.

When Constance arrived at the potions classroom, several other students were already there. The Weasley twins were set up together at a table near the back, but they looked prepared to split up in case she chose to work with one of them. Everywhere else, the students were divided into pairs based on house. Gryffindors worked with Gryffindors and Slytherins worked with Slytherins. They even sat on opposite sides of the room, as if wanting to keep as much space between themselves as possible. Every class the two groups had together was like that. All the other houses had no problem intermingling, but no one wanted to mess with the Slytherins. It was the stupidest thing in the world.

Mihnea was sitting at a table at the very front with a boy who was apparently his lab partner. From the expression on his face, it was clear her cousin didn't like him at all. When he caught sight of her, his face brightened. He gave his companion a hard push, knocking him right out of his seat. He jerked his thumb toward the back of the room.

"Beat it, Yaxley."

The Slytherin boy blinked, then scuttled to the back of the room to find a different table. Mihnea smiled and pulled out the chair as Connie approached.

"You really do have all of them scared of you." she commented as she sat down.

"It comes in handy." he said with a shrug. "And it's funny as hell." he paused and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I overheard Snape and McGonagall talking. He said you act like a Slytherin. I think he likes you."

The girl stared at him. Professor Snape acted like he didn't like anyone. She opened her mouth to say something about it, then noticed everyone was staring at them in shock. Fred and George's mouths were hanging so far open it looked like their jaws were going to pop off and fall onto the floor.

"Why are they all looking at us like that?" she whispered.

"Because you're sitting on the Slytherin side of the room, and I'm being nice to you." he responded, then gave her a mischievous look. "They probably think the apocalypse is about to happen."

Constance couldn't help it. The entire situation was so ridiculous she just had to laugh. That seemed to freak out the entire class even more. When everyone had come in and taken their seats, Professor Snape entered to begin the lesson. He paused and arched a brow when he saw the two of them sitting together, then cleared his throat to give them their assignments.

It was then that she understood why Snape moved her up. Third year potions seemed to be the students' first introduction to ingredient substitutions. It was much more complex than exchanging one ingredient for another. In the collection of materials the Potions Master provided, there were some things that were too old to be used, some he hadn't given them enough of, and a handful of things they hadn't gotten at all. The potion itself was simple, but so many elements had to be changed that they couldn't afford to get something wrong. She and Mihnea put their heads together and started brainstorming.

"There's only one ounce of foxglove." Connie said. "Maybe we should use jimsonweed?"

Her cousin shook his head. "That will make the fumes poisonous. We need agrimony."

And so on it went until they'd developed a full list of new ingredients they would need. As Mihnea went off to retrieve them from the storeroom, someone's cauldron exploded. Constance jumped and looked around to see who's it was. It was a pair of Gryffindors she didn't know. Snape marched over to give them a lecture about how stupid they were, then cleaned up the mess with a wave of his wand and made them start over. It looked like every table had started brewing something except for theirs. However, most of the other students were just throwing random things into their cauldrons to see if they would do anything. It was the most shockingly haphazard way of working she'd ever seen, and she couldn't understand how so many people could be that foolish. It was no wonder Snape didn't like the Gryffindors. They were the ones who made the most mistakes and did the most damage to the classroom.

When she and Mihnea finally got started on brewing, they were the last ones to begin. But with the carefully constructed plan they came up with in advance, they had no trouble with it at all. It wasn't like they were on the losing end of some sort of race anyway. Just about everyone had to start over at some point. A couple of groups had to redo all of their work several times. Constance and her cousin once had to scoot their chairs back and lift their feet to avoid a nasty, vomit green potion oozing across the floor. The Slytherins who made it had horrid looking boils and pustules all over their faces from the back-splash. The girl felt a rush of relief when they finally finished. She was ready to get out of there before she got sprayed with some god-awful concoction someone else came up with.

Snape walked over to inspect their work and studied it in silent appraisal.

"Well done." he said, inclining his head. "Ten points to Slytherin and Gryffindor for being the only ones to **not** make a god-forsaken mess of my classroom." he pointed toward the front. "Leave a bottle on my desk, and you may go."

Neither of them had to be told twice. They cleaned up their work area and Constance poured a measured amount of their potion into a bottle for grading. Mihnea met her at the front carrying both of their bags. He was pulling the door shut behind them when another cauldron exploded.

"Ten points each from Gryffindor, Weasley!" they heard Snape shout.

Connie sighed. She had actually gotten points **added **by the Potions Master and the twins had to go and lose them again.

* * *

><p>It went on that way for weeks. She and Mihnea would work together in potions class, trying to avoid all the exploding cauldrons, then would separate to go to their other classes. She didn't think anything of it. They had grown up together, and she was used to spending a lot more time with him than they got at Hogwarts. But the other students thought something really weird and freaky was going on.<p>

"What's with you and Bassarab?" one of the twins asked her at dinner one night.

Constance glanced over and saw it was Fred. He had a particular freckle on his nose that George didn't have. Discovering that made telling the two of them apart much easier.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she said.

Ron looked aghast. "Bassarab? **Mihnea **Bassarab?" he looked over at her. "What are you doing with him?"

Connie shrugged. "We're lab partners."

"You should see the two of them in class." George piped up, looking like he found the whole thing to be some kind of terrible sin. "They talk, they laugh, he carries her bloody **books**..." he paused and gave her a serious look. "You don't have a thing going with him, do you?"

_A thing? _She wondered. _What the bloody he... _Her eyes went wide when she realized what he meant.

"Oh my god!" she sputtered. "That's disgusting! No, we don't have a 'thing'. We're **cousins**."

Everyone stopped and stared at her.

"Cousins?" Harry repeated. "You never said anything about that before!"

"Well, you didn't ask, did you?" she said smartly. "We grew up together, so he's like my older brother."

"But he's a Slytherin!" Ron stated, looking horrified. "And he's **scary**. Even the Slytherins are scared of him."

_Oh, for the love of..._ "Mihnea is **not **scary." Connie said. When she saw their unconvinced looks, she sighed. "Okay, fine. Sometimes he's scary. But most of the time he's nice, polite, and a perfect gentleman. What's your problem anyway? Has he ever actually done anything to you?"

They all paused. "No..." the twins said in unison. "But he's still creepy."

Constance was about to comment that they were being silly and ignorant about the whole thing, but stopped when she felt a tug on her leg. Pixie was down there batting at her with a clawed paw. She probably heard who they were talking about. Mihnea's cat was a strikingly intelligent animal, and she tended to show up and snoop around when she heard someone say her owner's name. Once Pixie saw she had Connie's attention, she crouched down into pounce position then jumped up into her lap. The cat stayed there only a second before she caught sight of the chicken on Ron's plate. She leapt up onto the surface of the table, shocking everybody there.

"That's the biggest cat I've ever seen!" Hermione exclaimed.

Pixie stalked across the table and snatched a chicken leg off of Ron's plate.

"Hey!" the boy shouted. He started rolling up his copy of the Daily Prophet as if he were going to give her a swat with it.

"If you hit my cat with that thing, I'll beat the snot out of you with it and see how much you like it."

Ron froze and dropped the newspaper. Mihnea was standing at the end of the table eating an apple. He shot Weasley a look, then pointed at Pixie.

"Bad girl." he admonished. "We don't take things off of other people's plates. Put it down."

The cat hesitated, then lowered her head to set the chicken down on the table. She then sat down and slumped like she was ashamed of herself.

"Now apologize." Mihnea told her.

Pixie sat up a bit straighter and looked over at Ron. She batted a paw at him and meowed. All the Gryffindors sitting nearby looked between Mihnea and his cat in absolute astonishment. Constance couldn't tell if they were shocked by a Slytherin telling his cat to apologize to a Gryffindor, or just surprised that Pixie was smart enough to actually do it. Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs.

"Say thank you." she hissed.

The boy grimaced and rubbed his side where she hit him, then looked at Bassarab nervously.

"Uh... thank you."

Mihnea slowly arched a brow. "You're welcome." he replied with a small nod of acceptance. "And I apologize for that. Pixie likes to steal people's food. If she does it again, just tell her to stop. She'll understand what you're saying."

Ron looked stunned he had apologized to him. Mihnea was crooking his finger at the cat to get her to come with him when Malfoy and his goons came in and saw the lot of them sitting together.

"Well, if it isn't Potter and his gang of mudbloods, half-breeds, and muggle lovers!" he taunted.

Mihnea went very still. Connie was sure the 'half-breed' jab had been directed at her, but that was a word her cousin didn't like hearing no matter who it was said to. His back was turned, so Draco couldn't tell it was him who was standing there. If he had known, he wouldn't have dared to say it. When she saw him put his apple down and start rolling up his sleeves like he was going to kick the boy's ass, Constance grabbed his arm.

"Not here." she told him, giving him a pleading look. "There are too many teachers around."

Up at the teacher's table, the professors couldn't hear everything that was said below, but if they saw a fight, he'd get a detention or worse. Mihnea looked up at them and made a face.

"Goddamn it." he swore. He looked at his cat. "Attack position, Pixie."

She immediately dropped into a low crouch, looking every bit like a miniature leopard preparing to take down it's prey. Mihnea waited until Draco was close enough, then pointed.

"Go get him."

Pixie ran down the table and gave a flying leap through the air, landing right on Malfoy's head. The blonde boy let out a shrill scream and hit the ground. The cat clawed and bit at him while he rolled around, struggling to pry her off. Up at the teacher's table Snape was standing up, trying to figure out what was going on with his students.

"Mr. Bassarab!" he bellowed. "Get your cat off of Malfoy's face!"

"Yes sir!" Mihnea called out. He picked up his apple and bit into it. "Let him go, Pixie. You don't know where he's been."

She stopped chewing on Malfoy's nose and looked up at her owner. Pixie jumped off of the squealing boy to leap back up onto the Gryffindor table. Draco stayed on the ground, moaning like the scratches on his face were going to kill him or something.

Mihnea fed Pixie a piece of his fruit. "Good girl." he praised, then gathered her up into his arms like she was a baby. He walked over to the blonde boy laid out on the floor and nudged him with his foot.

"You scream like a little girl, Malfoy."

Everyone sitting around Connie just stared as he walked away, cooing at his cat.

"Did that just happen?" the twins questioned, both of them blinking.

"Yes." she replied with a wide smile. "See? I told you he could be nice."

Nice in his own way, at least.


	5. The Bonds of Friendship

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Hermione? Hermione, please talk to me. You've been in here all afternoon."

Connie had no idea what was wrong, but it had to have something to do with Charms. Ever since they finished their levitation lesson, the girl had locked herself up in the bathroom to bawl her eyes out. She had seen her running down the hallway, and followed to see what was going on. Inside the stall, she heard her sniff.

"Go away."

Constance narrowed her eyes. This had been going on long enough. "Hermione Granger, if you don't come out, I'll kick the door down and come in there with you." she threatened.

"No you wont." her sad voice replied. "Just leave me alone."

She had no intentions to leave. One of her friends was upset and she wanted to know why. Constance pushed herself up from the floor, straightened her shoulders, and gave the latch of the door a solid kick. The flimsy metal lock snapped and the door swung inward. Hermione's tear filled eyes went wide in shock.

"What are you doing!" she exclaimed. "You just broke a door!"

Connie stepped inside the bathroom stall and pushed the door closed behind her. "I told you if you wouldn't come out, I was coming in." she said, repeating her previous statement. "So I came in. Now what's wrong?"

She looked awful. Her entire face was wet with tears, and her eyes were red and swollen from hours of crying. She had reached that stage where she couldn't speak for very long without her voice breaking so she could fight for breath.

"I don't want to talk about it." she said.

Okay, well, if she was going to play that game, Connie could wait it out. She lowered herself down to sit cross-legged on the floor, pinning the door of the stall closed with her back.

"I can sit in here all night." she told her.

Hermione blinked at her, looking surprised that she was actually going to follow through with her words. She let out a deep sigh and sniffled.

"Harry and Ron were making fun of me."

Constance blinked. Surely she hadn't heard that right. Ron and Harry weren't the brightest bulbs in the box, but they weren't the sort to be mean to someone just for fun.

"When?" she asked.

"When we were leaving Charms." Hermione replied haltingly. "I heard them talking. Ron said I didn't have any friends because I was a nightmare..." she started crying all over again. "I'm not a nightmare, am I? I mean, I know I come off as bossy sometimes, but I wasn't trying to be mean. I was just trying to help..."

Oh, the next time she saw Harry and Ron, she was going to give both of them a good punch in the nose. How dare they say something like that? She reached out and touched Hermione's shoulder.

"No, you're not a nightmare." she soothed. "And you do have friends. I'm your friend, aren't I?"

The girl sniffled again and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her robe. "Yes..." she said, then shook her head. "I just don't understand why they said it..."

Constance frowned. "What exactly did they say?"

"It was all about that spell we were doing in class." Hermione replied, looking at her through her swollen eyes. "I kept telling them it was 'levi-O-sa', not 'levio-SA'. And I promise I wasn't trying to be snotty about it, but Ron was about to put someone's eye out with the way he was swinging his wand around, and I just couldn't stand it!"

She probably didn't intend to sound snotty, but she did sometimes come off way, Connie thought. But that was still no reason for them to go and make fun of her for it.

"Well, if you ask me, I think you had a right to tell them they were doing something wrong." she told her. "I mean, you saw what happened to Seamus."

Seamus had been saying the spell wrong **and** using the wrong wand motion. After three attempts, the feather he was supposed to be levitating blew up in his face. He was lucky it had been a feather and not something bigger and heavier. Someone could get hurt making stupid mistakes like that.

"That's what** I **was thinking." Hermione said. "But I can't say anything without someone calling me a teacher's pet or a know-it-all. I don't really sound that way, do I?"

She was looking at her like she expected an answer, and Constance didn't like lying. She took a deep breath.

"I think... sometimes you say things without realizing how they sound to other people." she said as gently as possible. "But... that's just part of who you are. None of us is perfect. And I think that people get annoyed with that because they know you're smarter than them and they don't like it." she paused. "Harry and Ron are **boys** Hermione. They can't help being stupid."

That got a small laugh out of her, and her lips pulled into a small smile. "I suppose they can't, can they?"

Connie nodded. "Next time, maybe you should let the feathers blow up in their faces so they'll learn to listen when you tell them something."

The girl laughed again. "I don't know if I can do that." she told her. "But I think I'll stop letting them copy my essays for History of Magic."

She was surprised that Hermione, being the stickler for rules that she was, actually let them do that. But then, Professor Binns was a ghost, and didn't really pay attention to small details like that as long as his students turned something in that halfway resembled the assignment. She fished a pack of tissues out of her pocket and passed them to her.

"The Halloween feast is tonight. Are you going to come down?" she asked.

Hermione pulled out one of the tissues and blew her nose. "I don't know. It's mostly candy and sweets, isn't it? I'm not supposed to eat much of those things..."

Her parents were dentists, so they didn't like the thought of their daughter eating things filled with sugar that could rot out her teeth.

"It's **Halloween**, Hermione." Constance prodded. "Eating candy is the best part about it!" she simpered down a bit. "And maybe they'll have something there that's not pure sugar. I mean, surely they would have something in case a student was diabetic..."

She didn't know if there were any wizards or witches with diabetes, but there had to be some sort of allowances made for them if there were. Sending someone into diabetic shock from loading them up with a bunch of stuff they weren't supposed to have would make the school look bad. If anything, they should have something for people on special diets. In front of her, Hermione was still wiping her nose.

"Maybe so." she said quietly. "I'll come down later. I promise. I just... think I want to be alone for a while." she gave Connie a small smile. "At least until I look better. I don't want anyone to see me like this."

Constance could certainly understand that. "Are you going to be okay?" she questioned.

"I'll be fine." Hermione replied, waving her off. "You go on and have fun. I'll come down in a little while."

She nodded. With as upset as she was, she deserved a little alone time to recover. Now that she was assured that everything was okay and knew what it had all been about, she felt better about leaving her there. She told Hermione to keep the tissues, then pushed herself up off the floor to head down to the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>When she took her place at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron looked completely dumbfounded as to why Hermione wasn't there yet.<p>

"She's not coming down?" Weasley questioned. "But it's Halloween! All the good stuff will be gone if she waits too long!"

Constance gave him a sharp look. "No, she's not coming down yet. She's been in the girl's bathroom crying for hours because of **you**. Where do you get off telling her she has no friends? You had no right!"

Ron winced and exchanged a look with Harry. "Oh come on, I didn't mean it that way. You know how mental she gets. It's downright annoying sometimes..."

"Hermione is **not **mental. She was **trying** to help you avoid having a spell blow up in your face. How would you feel if someone told you no one wanted to be your friend because you're a red-haired, freckled idiot with no common sense?" she demanded. "You'd be holed up in a bathroom crying like a baby too. You had better to apologize to her, or I'll kick your sorry arse myself." she gave Harry a hard look. "You too."

Potter gave a start. "Me? I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly. You didn't do anything. You should have told him to shut his mouth." Connie said, pissed off. "The two of you may not care how people treat your friends, but I do. Hermione is my friend, and I'm not going to listen to people tearing her down no matter who they are. If you can't say something nice, then just keep your bloody mouth shut."

Fred and George were a couple of seats down from them, but they were listening. "I'd do what she says, Ron." Fred told his brother. "She looks right scary."

"Oh, shut it." Constance snapped, turning their way. She was mad, and it was going to come out at everyone now. "I'm pissed at both of you too. I earned us twenty points in Potions today, and you guys had to go and lose them. **Again**."

Both of the twins blinked and pointed at each other. "It was him." they both said.

She sighed. One of them was no worse than the other. She was sure that if they weren't working together, they wouldn't go losing so many points. The two boys fed off of each other like leeches. She wasted no time in telling them so.

"So, if you want us to split up, does that mean you'll be my partner in potions?" George asked, looking hopeful.

"**No**." she said firmly. "I'm happy with the partner I have now, thank you."

George made a face, and Fred elbowed him the side and whispered something in his ear. "I am not!" he protested, while his brother just snickered.

"What are you two on about now?" she demanded.

"Nothing." they said in unison.

They were doing that irritating twin thing, so Constance decided to ignore them. Since she was there for the feast, she turned her attention to examining what was laid out. Most of it was candy and other confections. Cookies, cakes, brownies, and tarts... But there were a few small selections of sliced fruit that looked like they weren't going to last very long. She picked out a few pieces to save for later. If Hermione didn't make it down before they were gone, she would at least have something other than pure sugar to eat. She put a napkin over the plate and set it to the side so she could start picking things out for herself. She didn't particularly like really sweet things, but there were some pieces of peanut brittle and iced gingerbread that looked promising. She was flaking off black icing in the shape of a bat off of a gingerbread cookie when Professor Quirrel ran in through the main doors of the Great Hall.

"TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

It took only a few seconds for all hell to break loose.

* * *

><p>Connie didn't know much about mountain trolls aside from them being big, ugly, and extremely stupid. It was one of those things you didn't really worry about knowing because you never thought you'd ever have to actually deal with one. But there they were, a troll having somehow invaded the lower levels of the castle, and all the students herded up to their dormitories for their own safety while the teachers went to fend it off before it did too much damage.<p>

There was just one problem. Three problems, to be more exact. Once everything in the Gryffindor common room was settled down enough to not be considered complete chaos, Constance noticed that Hermione, Harry, and Ron weren't there.

"What do you** mean,** they ran off?" she exclaimed when Neville said he had seen them leave the group.

The boy looked like he was afraid she was going to do something to him. "I heard them say something about Hermione not knowing about it." he stuttered in his nervousness. "I think they went to the girl's bathroom to get her."

She felt foolish for not doing something similar herself. She had hoped that Hermione would be on her way down to the feast, and would see everyone being taken up to the dorms. But at least the boys were thinking about her safety. With the troll in the dungeons, it wouldn't be like there was any immediate danger on the main floors of the castle anyway... But it wasn't long before McGonagall came in, dragging all three of them behind her by the ears. How she managed to do that, Connie wasn't sure, but it was an impressive feat.

"Do you three realize how lucky you are?" she demanded. "There aren't many first year students who could face a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell about it." she gave Hermione a stern look. "I expected better of you, Miss Granger. I am severely disappointed in your lack of judgment."

_Wait a second._ Constance thought. _What?_

It was inexplicable why Hermione would have points taken away from her for 'running off to hunt down the troll' while Harry and Ron got points **added** for being lucky enough to beat the damn thing. No one had any idea what had happened. But Connie got an earful about it once the excitement died down and they all went to bed for the night.

"I was still in the bathroom when it came in." the girl told her, dressed out in pajamas and sitting on the edge of her bed. "I didn't know what to do! It was all so sudden. But Harry and Ron came in and rescued me."

"They rescued you?" she asked, astonished. She didn't know the boys had it in them.

"Well, it was all a jumbled up mess, to be honest, but they did most of the work." the girl amended. "Harry jumped up on top of it, and Ron levitated it's club to hit it on the head! Connie, he said the spell right and everything!"

_Wow..._ So Ron actually managed to perform a spell without it blowing up in his face. That was impressive. Constance couldn't help but smile.

"I guess they wont be complaining about you lecturing them on pronunciation anymore, will they?"

"I should hope not." Hermione replied with a sniff. "If they do, I have something to hold over their heads now." she quieted and became thoughtful. "They apologized while McGonagall was bringing us back up, by the way. What on earth did you say to them? They sounded like you made them nervous."

She blinked, then remembered the conversation they had over the Halloween feast. "Oh. I... um... might have told them that I would kick their arses if they didn't say they were sorry."

Hermione studied her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You must have been scary about it, because they still looked frightened, even after the troll!"

"Well, I don't think I could do much worse than a troll, but I'll take that as a compliment." Constance replied, finding that a bit funny herself. Maybe she had finally gotten her mother's 'icy death glare' down. "So are you still going to let them copy you after this?"

The girl simpered down and let out a deep sigh. "I suppose I have to, don't I? I can't very well tell them no after they practically saved my life..." she paused and seemed to think it over. "I'll give them a week, then I'll stop letting them copy."

That's what she said now but she would still let them do it, Constance imagined. For the same reason that she let Fred and George look over her potions notes when they weren't under the watchful eye of Professor Snape. Because they were friends, and that's what friends did for each other.

* * *

><p>A.N: Okay, I've gotten some questions in reviews, and I figured I should address them here, just in case other people were wondering about the same things.<p>

1. _What are the changes in the timeline and how where the aurors involved/not involved in the Battle of London_? In this story, the Battle of London took place about 2 years before the 'final' defeat of Voldemort. At the time, the Ministry and the magical world at large was so busy fighting him and his followers that they couldn't spare additional forces to deal with the muggle war with vampires. There were muggle organizations around the world that were supposed to handle monster attacks like that, so they probably figured that those agencies would deal with the muggle world, and they would focus on the magical world. After the war with Millennium was over, it wasn't like the magical world could erase the memory of everyone on the planet. There was too much damage done.

2. _Will this story be entirely from Connie's POV? _Nope. This story is not going to be entirely from Connie's POV. She just happens to be in the middle of the most important things going on at the moment. There will be some chapters from Mihnea's POV, some from various Hellsing members POV, some from the trio's... etc. Don't worry. You guys will get to have a glimpse inside of Mihnea's head. :)

3. _Is there a connection between Syn and Lilly?_ Syn Newsom and Lily Potter have no personal connection to each other whatsoever. They just both happen to have red hair and green eyes. I'm sure there are plenty of people in the Weasley family with red har and green eyes too. However, there **is** somewhat of a connection between the Newsoms and the Potters - which I'm not going to say any more about right now, but it will be important. Feel free to guess.

4. _Why does Syn take the Bassarab name, and why can't she use wigs/contact lenses to move around in the magical world without being recognized?_ This is a bit more complicated, and might take longer to explain: Syn and Alucard are mated, not married. Mihnea uses Bassarab as his last name to go to Hogwarts, but Syn still goes by 'Miss Newsom'. Mihnea would have been a Newsom before he got his acceptance letter. Since Alucard is a vampire who techinically isn't supposed to exist (everyone believes that VanHelsing killed him, not kept him as a pet) he would have no real need for a surname. There is no way Mihnea could have used 'Dracula' without raising eyebrows, so Alucard had to go further back in history to find something more appropriate for him to use.

As for why Mihnea's mother can't wear disguises to get around the magical world without being recognized - the Newsom's magic is different, and witches and wizards are able to sense it. There are some types of magical creatures who give people a strange feeling when they're around, and this works in a similar way. Syn could disguise herself, use a different name, or even take a potion to change her appearance entirely and witches and wizards would still be able to sense that she used a type of magic that scares the hell out of them. If Edmund is a Newsom, then why is he able to get around that? This is something that wasn't explicitly stated in _Blood Heritage, _but Edmund's mother was a Newsom who married a Stryker. His father came from a family who didn't use magic, so in the magical world, he would be considered a half blood. That muggle blood dampens the effect and makes it less noticiable. Edmund is so friendly and outgoing with people, they would probably think they were just imagining things once they started talking to him. Syn, on the other hand, would be a pure blood. She has no idea who her father is, but my thoughts are that it was a wizard who abandoned her mother once he found out he got her pregnant. The 'pure' magical blood makes that sensation she gives off impossible to hide, so there would be no point in even attempting to hide behind disguises or a different name.

So anyway, there are the answers for you. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask and I'll answer them for you!

I know I've been going crazy with the daily updates, but this will be the last one. From now on, I'll be updating on an every other day/every two days schedule. I apologize for anyone getting overloaded with chapters. :)


	6. An Uncomfortable Conversation

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next month and a half went by like a blur. It seemed that time drifted by as if it were made up of nothing more than fleeting moments. Quiddich season started up, and Constance got her first view of how the sport played out in a real life setting. The rules were complicated to listen to, but seeing them acted out on the pitch was actually exciting. Of course, the first game of the season saw Harry nearly get thrown off his broom. No one could explain why it had suddenly gone haywire and began acting like a wild bull. The boys claimed that Snape had been putting a spell on it for some reason. They ignored the fact that the Potions Master took up referee duty after that and while he was in the air with them, there were no more incidents of it happening. Off the Quiddich field, classes began going through the motions of preparing for exams and such. The few weeks before Christmas break were filled to the brim with the stress of studying. The boys study plans were simple. They just sat in and listened while Constance and Hermione quizzed each other on various subjects. They thought they could just absorb their knowledge by being in the same room with them. Why they believed they would have a severe allergic reaction to opening a book was beyond the girls. But then all the tests, exams, and quizzes were over, and it was time to get ready to go back home for a while.

Outside, the air had grown frigid, and the ground was blanketed with snow. Hogwarts was decked out in full holiday regalia, right down to a massive Christmas tree in the Great Hall. It was so huge, Professor Flitwick had to use charms to float up the topmost ornaments. Students were allowed to stay at the castle for the holidays if they wished, but Connie was ready to go back home to see everyone. This was the longest she'd ever been away from her family, and she missed them terribly.

"Does your family have anything special planned?" Hermione asked as they were packing their things.

Constance thought about the New Years ball Her Majesty hosted every year. Hellsing would be expected to attend.

"I imagine there will be a party or two." she settled on saying. "How about you?"

"My parents and I are going on a skiing trip." the girl replied. "It'll be my first time doing it. I hope I don't wind up making a fool of myself."

That actually sounded like fun. Connie had never been skiing before. They placed the last of the things they would need into their trunks and locked them up so they could be put on trollies to go downstairs. Most of the students who were leaving for the holidays had already gone, but Harry and Ron were sitting at one of the tables in the Great Hall playing wizard's chess. It looked like neither of them planned on going anywhere.

"You're staying?" Hermione questioned when they got up to them.

The boys looked up from their game. Harry just nodded, while Ron huffed.

"Mom and dad are going to visit my brother Charley in Romania." he said.

She'd heard him talk about that before. Something about his brother working with dragons up there. Constance found herself wondering how many siblings the boy could possibly have. It sounded like the Weasley clan had a house full. The girls wished them a good holiday and bid them farewell.

The schedule for the Hogwarts Express was beyond any sort of logical understanding. Since many of the students left at different times, the train made several trips to London and back. Connie couldn't figure out why no one thought of rounding everyone up so they could all leave at once. But then, there were a lot of things about the magical world that didn't make much sense. The trip itself was long and quiet. She was finally allowed to sit in one of the Gryffindor cars toward the front, but Mihnea still had to stay with the Slytherins. When they finally arrived at the platform at King's Cross, neither of their rides had gotten there yet. They decided to wait together to pass the time. It was then that Connie noticed that her cousin was acting weird.

Mihnea **always **helped her carry her things. She never asked him to do it. It was just one of the things he did on his own out of habit. To be fair, he did assist her in pulling her trunk out of the baggage car, but when Hermione stepped up to get her things, his nostrils flared and he went very still. Then he just... quickly walked away. He didn't even say why. Just up and left without saying a word. It was the damnedest thing she'd ever seen. Hermione's parents showed up first, and Constance wished her a good holiday before watching them drive off. As they were waiting for Jackson, their butler, to arrive, she hounded Mihnea about his behavior.

"What on earth is going on with you?" she asked him. "You're acting strange."

"No I'm not." he replied. But his odd expression told her he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Honestly," she said with a sniff. "You don't think running off like that was weir..."

"Drop it, Connie." he snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

She immediately closed her mouth and studied him. Mihnea kept his eyes trained forward and his jaw clenched tightly. Something was bothering him. Maybe something happened at school before they left? She couldn't be sure, but it had to be important. Her cousin rarely got upset. Irritated or annoyed, yes, but getting truly upset was very uncommon for him. When he got that way, it was best to just leave him alone for a while. Jackson finally got to the station to pick them up, and it was a quiet ride to the manor.

* * *

><p>When they got home, Constance was immediately met by her mother.<p>

"A **mountain troll,** Constance? How the bloody hell did a mountain troll get into the school?"

So she was still upset about the incident that happened over Halloween. As she tried to explain that it was a fluke and everyone was fine, Mihnea sought out his mother.

"Dear God, boy!" the redhead exclaimed when she saw him. "Every time you come home, it looks like you've grown a foot! I'm going to have to put a brick on your head."

Mihnea was thirteen and already pushing 5'10. He would have several more growth spurts before he was through growing. The boy was going to be **tall**. He made a face at the comment, then brushed it off.

"Is dad downstairs?" he asked.

Syn paused and looked him over. She could tell that something was bothering him too.

"Yes, he's down there..." she told him, then gave him a concerned look. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. I just... need to talk to him."

"Ah." she said, understanding. "I'll ask Jackson to save you something from supper then. You can get it when you're through."

If he was going to have a talk with Alucard, it was probably about a vampire thing. Constance watched from the side as her cousin nodded, then turned to head down to the sub-levels.

* * *

><p>Any time Mihnea had a serious conversation with his father, it was over a game of chess. It was a game of strategy and skill, the vampire told him. Something he needed to master to become a better fighter and leader later on. The boy was getting better, but he hadn't managed to beat Alucard yet.<p>

"Something troubles you." his dad commented as he moved one of his pawns.

Mihnea kept his eyes fixed on the board. He had come down here for a reason. It just... wasn't the easiest thing in the world to talk about. He made a move, then drew in a breath.

"I've been... having problems."

The vampire showed no outward reaction. "Problems with school?"

"Not exactly." he said, then scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "It's the girls. They're driving me crazy."

His father glanced up and smirked. "Women tend to do that." he said, looking amused. "It's a distinctly feminine quality."

Well, yeah, girls could sometimes be annoying and bothersome, but that wasn't what this was about.

"I can... smell them." he said, embarrassed. God, this was mortifying. "I can smell the blood on them."

Alucard's fingers paused in moving his knight, and his eyes lit up in understanding. "**Ah. **So you're beginning to catch the scent of young girls blossoming into womanhood." he resumed his move and set the knight down on one of the squares. "It tempts you, does it?"

Mihnea's entire face went pink, and his father chuckled.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about." he chided, still looking like he thought it was funny. "You're becoming a young man, so it's perfectly natural for you to start taking notice of young women. Especially young women who are actively bleeding." he leaned back in his chair. "You should think of menstruation as one of mother nature's little gifts. When you take a young woman for yourself, it will be the one time you can drink from her without having to bite."

"**DAD!**"

Geez, this was hard enough to do without him putting** that **image into his head. That was just gross.

Alucard gave him a wide, mischievous grin that showed a hint of fang. "There are many things you find disgusting now that you'll change your mind about when you're older." he said, making the boy's face grow even redder. "Now then, do certain girls 'drive you crazy' more than others?"

Mihnea overcame his bout of mortification and thought about it. Not all the girls gave him that weird feeling of wanting to pounce on them like prey – even when they smelled different.

"It's the younger ones." he said finally. "Most of the older girls don't bother me."

The elder vampire inclined his head. "The younger girls are more likely to be virgins. The blood of an innocent is especially enticing to our kind."

That actually made sense, but it didn't really help him with his problem.

"But what do I do about it?" he asked. "Will it go away?"

"You will develop a tolerance to it in time." he replied. "It's called 'puberty', my son. No one ever said it was pleasant."

Was that his way of telling Mihnea to just deal with it? His brows furrowed as he moved his rook to check Alucard's king.

"What happens if I snap and hurt someone?"

One of his father's brows rose slightly. "Have you done that yet?"

"No..." but that didn't mean the desire wasn't there.

Alucard moved his king out of harm's way. "You are not a slave to your urges, Mihnea. You are the master of them. The more you struggle against your desires, the less control you have. You must learn to accept them as a part of yourself and trust your instincts. The rest will come."

That seemed to be his parents' response to everything. Don't struggle, just accept. Maybe they had a point. But putting such a thing into practice was a lot more difficult than just saying the words. Mihnea studied the chessboard intently. He was dangerously close to being checkmated, and he was trying to find a way out of it. Alucard's voice distracted him.

"Perhaps it's time for you to begin drinking blood every day." the vampire commented. "The scent will be less overwhelming when your thirst is satiated."

The boy paused thoughtfully. He'd heard that he had needed blood a lot when he was an infant. By the time he was a toddler, he only required it once a week or so. But as he got older, he needed it more and more often. When he started going to school and was constantly surrounded by large masses of people, he'd taken to drinking blood every other day. He could **survive** without blood, of course, but without it, he became more irritable and displayed more of his vampiric traits. His canines lengthened and his eyes glowed red when he was hungry. He couldn't afford to let that happen while he was at school. Mihnea gave a small nod of understanding and moved his bishop to guard his king.

"Since we're on the subject, is there any particular girl who's caught your fancy?"

The boy looked up and blinked. Where had **that** question come from?

"No..." he admitted. "I'm not really interested in any of the girls at school. Most of them are stupid, and the rest are scared of everything."

The vampire laughed and smirked again. "A wise choice. It is much better to wait for someone worthy of your time than to dally with lesser women."

Mihnea became thoughtful. "How do you know when one is worthy of your time?"

"Oh, you'll know." Alucard replied. "There are two types of women in this world. Some are flowers, and others are swords. The flowers are pleasing to the eye and provide a few delights, but lack any real substance. A sword is a far rarer creature. They thrive in adversity and prove their usefulness and strength in battle while all the flowers crumble to dust. Being what you are, you would crush a flower. **You** require a sword, my son. Once you find one, you'll never have to worry about losing your self-control. They will be able to withstand you at your worst and still remain."

_Huh._ Mihnea thought. With 'swords' being as rare as he made them out to be, their house sure seemed to be full of them.

* * *

><p><em>Swords and flowers? <em>Syn thought to master vampire downstairs. _Where the bloody hell did you come up with that nonsense?_

_I'm simply giving our son a lesson in what type of woman to look out for, little goddess._

_What type of wo... He's__** fourteen,**__ Alucard! Let him live a little before you start picking out marriage partners._

Edmund glanced over when he saw her odd expression. Their conversation in the sub-levels had been going on for a long time now, and Constance had already been sent to bed for the night.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

The redhead made a face. "Alucard is giving Mihnea dating advice."

Integra's good eye blinked, then she began rubbing her temples. "For the love of... Thank God the boy has your genes, Syn, or there's no telling what sort of bloody messes the vampire would have him bringing home."

Syn started to agree, then realized what she said. "Hey! Alucard brought** me** home, so his taste can't be that bad!"

"Why are you worried about him giving dating advice then?"

"I'm concerned about him telling our son it's okay for him to drag someone off by the hair like he did with me." she replied.

"I don't recall him dragging you here by the hair." The knight commented. "If I remember correctly, you were unconscious when you first arrived here."

"That's **exactly** my point." Syn said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Alucard is going to wind up teaching my son that it's okay to knock someone over the head and take them against their will, and that is** not** okay with me."

"Has Alucard ever knocked you unconscious, Syn?"

The redhead paused. "No... but... damn it, Integra! You know what I mean! Who's side are you on, anyway?"

Edmund just found the whole thing incredibly funny and started laughing.

* * *

><p>A.N. : I'm pretty sure Integra is being completely literal with her statement. Syn was, after all, a 'bloody mess' when Alucard first brought her to the manor, so she's probably concerned about Mihnea bringing home a girl who'll drip blood on her Persian rugs or something.<p> 


	7. Keeping Secrets

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Christmas break turned out to hold a wide array of interesting experiences.

During the family assembly in the sitting room to open presents, Constance and Mihnea received their own custom guns built by Syn. Connie's was a compact, 9mm pistol named Persephone. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, but powerful enough to pack a pretty big punch. The metal had an oil sheen finish that changed from black to blues and greens as the light washed over it. Delicate looking vines with small blossoms were inscribed along the barrel and down to the grip. Mihnea's was Venom – a larger, higher caliber combat pistol with dual-toned construction. The grip and top half of the rounded slide were a matte black polymer, while the lower half of the slide, trigger, sights, and the hammer were polished steel. The ejection port was situated on the left side to take Mihnea's left-handedness into account, and a tribal looking triskelion was engraved on each side of the handle. Both of the guns came complete with silencers that matched their designs. It was surprising that they received them at the same time rather than the boy getting his first. Constance was two years younger, and she thought she'd have to wait a while before receiving a gun of her own.

"I honestly wasn't intending to make one for you so soon." the redhead admitted. "But when we heard about what happened on Halloween, we decided you needed one."

Connie's mother nodded. "You're to take them to school and keep them on you at all times." she said, then looked over at Mihnea. "Both of you."

The two children looked at each other.

"But mom," Constance began. "Taking a weapon to school is..."

"A wand is a weapon with the right spell." her father interrupted. "A gun just gets the job done faster." he looked at them seriously. "If a troll can break into the school, then other things can too. If you **ever** run across some kind of monster, you shoot the damn thing and make it look like some sort of magical accident."

That must have been why they gave them silencers, she thought. They would mask the sound of a gunshot. While the thought of carrying a gun on her all the time seemed a monumental task, she realized the design of their school uniforms would make it easier. The black outer robe was so long and billowy you could probably carry a rifle beneath it and no one would be able to tell.

It was after the rest of the presents were opened that Mihnea brought out a discovery he had made during a trip to Hogsmeade village.

"You have got to try one of these." he said, thrusting a dark red lollipop toward Seras.

The draculina made a face and waved her hands. "Oh, no thank you." she told him. "The last time you gave me one of those god awful beans, it tasted like vomit. I'm **not** doing that agai..."

Mihnea quickly popped the candy into her mouth while it was open and Seras went quiet. She rolled the lollipop around in her mouth for a bit, then pulled it out and peered at it.

"Oh my God, it tastes like blood!" she exclaimed. "Where did you get it?"

"Honeydukes in Hogsmeade." he replied. "It's a candy shop. The owner has a niece or something that was turned and he invented them for her. They're stuck in the back so they're hard to find, and the people who see them think they're a gag gift to gross people out."

Pip's eyes widened and he wiggled his fingers at the box filled with 'blood-pops'.

"Oooh, let me 'ave one!" he stuck one in his mouth. " 'ey! Zhese zhings are good!"

Alucard arched a brow. "Candied blood. What an unusual concept."

But, of course, with it being blood candy, he had to try one for himself to see what it was like. It looked like he approved of them too. There was no stranger sight in the world than the intimidating No Life King walking around the manor with a lollipop in his mouth. The humans now had blackmail fodder to tease him with.

It was a few days after Christmas that they received a report of vampires causing trouble in South Wales. Alucard felt Mihnea was old enough and mature enough to take part, so he got to go out on the mission with them. Rather than being thrown in the thick of actual combat, he was positioned on a rooftop with a sniper rifle. He made his first kill that night. While Alucard and Seras took care of the first two vampires inside a house, the third attempted to escape. Mihnea was the one who fired the shot that took it down. A single bullet fired right into the back of the male vampire's head. Aunt Syn was so proud, she looked like she wanted to cry.

"My baby is all grown up and killing things!" she gushed, smothering her son in hugs and kisses.

"**Mom**!" the boy exclaimed as he tried to escape from her. "Mom, I can't breathe!"

Constance got her first taste of involvement in the business side of Hellsing as well. Her mother had taken over leadership of the organization when she was her age, so she thought it was appropriate for her to learn more about it. Connie was allowed to sit in on a Round Table meeting held not long after Mihnea's first mission. She had never heard so much arguing in her life. She had no idea how her mother put up with it.

"Politics is nothing more than a game in which all the players are attempting to gain more power than the others." Integra told her later. "You must never falter or cower to them. The smallest display of weakness will be exploited and used against you. Hellsing's purpose is too important for us to lose the influence we have."

The girl's brows furrowed. "If what we do is so important, then why do we always have to fight with the other knights?"

"Because their opinions of how things should be done are often different from ours." her mother explained. "And there are some – not all, but some – who want to have power over us just to be able to claim the honor. Being in a position of power is a double-edged sword, Constance. It can corrupt lesser men into using it for their own gain rather than the purpose it was intended for. You must never let yourself be corrupted by power or lose sight of our mission. Hellsing doesn't seek power for itself, but for the betterment of the people we protect. You have to be strong enough to do whatever is necessary to fulfill that purpose, and fight off anyone who would take it away from you."

That was... intimidating. Connie was thankful she wasn't placed in the position her mother had been in when she was her age. She honestly didn't know how she would handle it. Hellsing's job was a dangerous one, and the smallest mistake carried a heavy price tag. She hoped it was a long time before all that responsibility was placed on her shoulders.

* * *

><p>"An invisibility cloak! Do you know how <strong>rare<strong> those things are? Who gave it to you?" Hermione exclaimed.

Christmas break had finally come to an end, and everyone was gathered together in the common room to share stories of their holiday. Harry had mysteriously gotten an invisibility cloak that had once belonged to his father, the Weasleys all received hand-knitted sweaters with their initials on them from their mother (Fred and George exchanged theirs to confuse everyone about who was who), and Hermione told them tales of her skiing expedition. (I fell flat on my face **four** times! It was so embarrassing!)

Constance found she couldn't say much of anything. Her whole holiday had been so wrapped up in family matters that it had to be kept secret. This business of hiding things was much harder than she had imagined it would be. She had to settle on giving them a simple 'it was fine'. Of course, with her friends being the way they were, that wasn't enough for them.

"It was fine?" Ron repeated. "That's it? It was fine?"

"Yes, that's it." she replied, then held out a tin, hoping to distract them. "Snickerdoodle?"

Harry's eyes lit up and he grabbed one. All the Weasleys just looked confused.

"Snicker-what?" the twins asked.

The three who had grown up with muggles stared at them. They didn't have these in the magical world? That was awful!

"Snickerdoodles." Connie repeated. "Try one."

"They're very good." Harry said, talking with his mouth full. He swallowed. "Did your mom make these?"

She shook her head. "My Aunt Syn did."

Ron stopped chewing the cookie he had taken. "Aunt? You mean **Bassarab's** mom?"

Constance looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "It's not like they're poisoned or anything." she pointed at Harry. "See? He's fine."

The boy looked suspicious, but he resumed chewing. Hermione took one of the confections for herself, then glanced at her sideways.

"I saw you two at King's Cross when you arrived." she commented. "You were riding in a **nice **car."

Constance blinked at her. She didn't like where this was going.

"So?" she asked, pretending it wasn't a big deal. "My parents have a nice car."

"It was a Rolls Royce."

_Damn it. _Trust Hermione Granger to actually pay attention to something like that. To her left, Harry sputtered and looked like he was about to start choking. Once again, all the ginger headed boys with them looked completely bewildered.

"What's a Rolls Royce?" Ron questioned.

"It's one of the most luxurious cars there is." Hermione said smartly. "Only extremely wealthy and very important people own them."

_Damn it._ Connie thought again. _Damn it, damn it, damn it. _Now everyone was staring at her like she had grown a second head.

"You're rich?" Fred and George questioned, looking at her intently.

There was no way to get around it now. But maybe there was a way to play this to her advantage.

"Maybe I don't like talking about the things I do with my family because I don't want people to treat me differently." she said, then looked at Harry. "If no one recognized your name or what your scar meant, would you run around telling people?"

The boy looked thoughtful. "No..." he said after a long pause. "I wouldn't."

"See?" she told them. "When people know you're different, they treat you different. That's just the way people are. So there are things I would prefer people didn't know because who my family is, how much money they have, and what they do to get it doesn't matter. I'd be the same person with or without it. You guys are my friends, and I don't want you to see me any differently than you do now. So please don't ask me about things like that, because I'm not talking about it."

They all looked amongst each other. They could tell from the way she spoke that it was important to her and she felt strongly about it.

"You know it's not a big deal, right?" Harry told her. "I mean, you're our **friend.** You shouldn't have to keep secrets from your friends. None of us would care..."

Yeah, he said that now. But if they knew everything, they would probably care a lot more than they thought they would. These were her friends and she thought they were trustworthy, but there was too much risk involved. She decided to switch tactics.

"It's not just about the money." she said, thinking about what she could tell them that would get them off of her back. "My parents... work for the government. There's a lot of stuff that goes on at my house that's a matter of national security and I can't talk about it. Can we please drop it now?"

The mention of government seemed to get through to them. Connie knew for a fact that the Weasleys' father worked for the Ministry of Magic, so there was probably a lot of things they knew that they couldn't talk about either. They all looked at each other again thoughtfully, then came to a mutual decision.

"Okay."

_Oh, thank God. _She thought. They were going to respect her enough to leave it alone. She could only hope that the subject wouldn't come up again, because trying to carefully avoid answering questions was tiresome.

"Thank you." she said, letting out a breath of relief.

The boys all nodded, and Hermione studied her carefully. "You can't say **anything** about your holiday?" she asked. "Nothing at all?"

Constance considered it. Maybe there was something she could talk about...

"Well... I got a new violin for my birthday." she offered. It was a small thing, but at least it was something they could know about.

The boys blinked in surprise.

"Birthday?" Ron questioned. "When was it?"

"December 29th." she reported.

"Happy late birthday, then!" Fred and George piped up.

"So you play the violin?" Harry asked.

The girl nodded. "My family thinks that everyone should learn some sort of instrument to teach them culture and discipline." she told them. She had thought at first they would make her learn the piano, but Mihnea was already studying that one. She wanted to do something different, and she loved the sound of stringed instruments.

"Blimey." Ron said, looking impressed. "I've never met anyone who could play one before..."

"Did you bring it with you?" George asked.

"Of course!" Constance replied. "Would you like me to play something for you?"

They all looked entranced by the idea, so she ran off to pull her violin case out of the trunk still packed up in her room. Maybe it wasn't going to be so awkward after all. Even if she couldn't share everything, she could still give them her music.

* * *

><p>A.N: I could totally see Mihnea pulling a fast one and giving Seras all the nasty flavored beans. :P<p>

Okie dokie, so I am going to be heading out to watch Deathly Hallows part II in an hour or so. I'll answer the questions I've gotten in reviews and PMs when I get back. (just so you know I'm not ignoring you). Happy release of the last Harry Potter movie day! ~throws confetti in celebration~ Here's to hoping I don't turn into a blubbering idiot when my favorite characters kick the bucket on screen.


	8. The Unicorn

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Being a Slytherin provided one many advantages over other students at Hogwarts.

The first and most obvious thing was that other houses avoided them like the plague. Mihnea found that to be incredibly useful at times. Especially where the younger students were concerned, if they knew a Slytherin was around, they would stay out of their way. If someone saw them doing something they had no business doing, the Slytherins were far less likely to be reported to the teachers than a member of one of the other houses. Most of the student body seemed to labor under the mistaken notion that Professor Snape shielded his students from being punished. Nothing could be further from the truth.

He remembered how the Potions Master payed a visit to the Slytherin common room at the beginning of his first year at school. He did that for all of his new students. They received a stern lecture about the way they were expected to behave during their school career. Slytherin was a house of pride and distinction, he told them. If you received the honor of being grouped with them, you were expected to display and uphold the tenants of the house. If one stepped out of line, the whole lot of them caught hell for it. As such, the Slytherins had a particular system of 'self-policing' themselves that was unique among the four houses. Someone outside the magical world would say it resembled some of the things done in the muggle military. If any Slytherin got caught breaking the rules, their fellow house members would wait until the offender returned to the dormitories, then would proceed to beat the ever living shit out of them for making the rest of them look bad. There was no 'house unity' or solidarity of any sort. Not really. Every single one of them were out for themselves. Slytherins didn't make friends, they forged alliances. When two or more of them needed each other to achieve a particular goal, they would work together only as long they needed to. The alliance would be broken and discarded the moment it outlived its usefulness. Survival was the name of the game within their ranks, and it was an environment Mihnea found he flourished in.

He point blank refused to play the mind games and superiority contests the others indulged in. Growing up under his father's influence had taught him well. If someone was strong, they didn't have to rub everyone's nose in it to ensure they knew it. They could simply walk into a room and everyone would be able to **feel** their strength. A powerful person didn't raise their voice or yell to get people's attention. They could speak in a whisper, and everyone would strain to hear what was being said. Those who were too ignorant or prideful to recognize these characteristics of greatness could easily be pushed – or forced- to the side if they got in the way.

Perhaps that difference in behavior was why he was one of Snape's favorites. Whereas most of the other members of his house spent all their time informing the rest of the school of how much better they were than them, he kept to himself and only got involved in things when he had to. Much like the incident with Draco, any verbal altercations or fights were over quickly and it was extremely difficult to prove he had actually been involved in it. That was the other thing about Slytherin house. Rules could be pushed to the breaking point and they could do just about anything they wanted **as long** as no one found out about it. It was just like his parents' rule at home: if you can't do something without getting caught, then you have no business doing it at all. Young Bassarab put that to the test constantly. He knew almost every nook and cranny of the castle from his after-curfew explorations. During the afternoons, he was allowed to assist with stocking the potions storeroom with supplies. Mihnea primarily used it as an excuse to stay out of his dormitory, but it also provided the perfect opportunity to listen in on conversations no one else got the chance to hear.

He was sorting through shelves lined with bottles to make a list of ingredients that were running low when his acute sense of hearing picked up on one such conversation. Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall were in his head of house's office arguing about something.

"The man is up to something." he heard the Potions Master hiss. "You don't find it odd that the troll just **happened** to come in through the section of the castle he was patrolling at the time?"

"Severus, if we were to follow that line of thinking, someone could easily claim that you or any one of your students could have let it in." the headmaster replied calmly.

The boy paused in making his list and cocked his head to the side in interest. What happened on Halloween had been deliberate? He moved a bit closer to the wall that separated the storeroom from Snape's office to continue listening.

"You know that Potter and his merry band of followers have been stalking the halls at night." the man went on. "With that damn dog on the third floor, they're going to get themselves hurt or killed. **You** should have taken care of that by now."

"You act as though it's unusual for students to sneak around after curfew." McGonagall piped up. "I have it on good authority that one of your Slytherins is quite adept at 'stalking the halls' himself."

Mihnea had the distinct impression she was talking about him. Snape cleared his throat.

"Can you prove that, Minerva?"

"Of course I can't." she replied. "Just as you can't prove that Potter and his friends are doing it. We can't discipline students on suspicion alone, and we can't accuse a fellow teacher of something this serious without evidence."

"I agree." Dumbledore's voice responded. "The stone is well protected, Severus. You yourself created one of the challenges barring access to it." he paused momentarily. "I've already spoken to Nicholas about it. If any attempt is made to steal the stone, he agrees that it should be destroyed."

Severus sounded like he didn't like what he was hearing. "I don't like it, Albus. If you had given the position to **me**, none of this would be..."

"You know very well that if I gave you the DADA position, you wouldn't be able to remain at Hogwarts for long." the headmaster interrupted. "I need you here, Severus. I have a feeling that with Mr. Potter's return to our world, I will have to call upon your particular talents in the near future."

The boy sensed that the conversation was coming to an end and he should probably get back to his job before they realized he'd been listening. Without making a sound, he stepped over to the far side of the room and went back to examining the shelves for anything he might have missed. The bottles of powdered unicorn's horn were almost empty, and Snape was nearly out of dried valerian root. He hastily scribbled them down.

"You're taking an unusually long time to go through my storeroom, Mr. Bassarab." A deep, silky voice commented behind him.

_Damn._ Snape had a sixth sense about people doing things they shouldn't. But as long as there was no proof, Mihnea was in the clear.

"I apologize, sir." the boy said, pretending not to catch on to the statement's meaning. "There are a lot of things that need replacing." he held up the slip of parchment. "I made a list."

The professor glanced at it, then jerked his thumb toward the door. "Leave it on my desk, then get out of here before I'm tempted to find a reason to give you a detention."

Yep, he definitely sensed that Mihnea had been spying. He quickly finished writing out the last few items he had to put on his list, then went to do as he was told.

* * *

><p>"Okay, wait a minute." Constance said, making sure she was hearing things correctly. "Dumbledore has some kind of stone hidden in the castle, and Snape thinks Quirrel is trying to steal it?"<p>

"That was the impression I got, yeah." Mihnea replied.

_Hmmm..._ Well, she'd always thought Professor Quirrel gave off a creepy, distrustful sort of vibe...

Her cousin had found her after supper and pulled her off for 'target practice' in the forbidden forest. Which was basically just an excuse to go to a place no one could follow so they could talk without having to worry about someone listening to them. There had been a good bit of sneaking involved, and Mihnea warned her to stay close to him to avoid the spiders. Constance wasn't particularly afraid of spiders, but when she saw the enormous cobwebs in the trees, she understood. Only an arachnid the size of a small car could build webs that huge.

Mihnea raised his gun and fired a silent shot at the target set up about a hundred meters away. She couldn't really tell from this distance, but he'd probably hit it dead center again. He was an excellent shot. Connie, however, didn't have his acute sight or night vision, so her shots weren't nearly as accurate as his. In fact, in the low light, it was miraculous she was able to hit the target at all. She shot him a sideways glance when she saw him sipping red fluid through a straw stuck down the neck of a dark tinted bottle.

"You've been drinking blood more often." she commented.

He shrugged. "Dad said I should start drinking every day."

It had taken a few weeks of prodding, but he'd finally broken down and told Connie what was bothering him so much. He implied that it was something gross she didn't want to know all the details of, but she gathered that smelling people's blood was making him hungry.

"Does it help?" she questioned.

"Some." he replied, not taking the straw from his mouth. "It takes the edge off."

Constance hummed, then turned her attention back to the target. Thank God their parents had been thoughtful enough to give them silencers. There would have been no way to practice without them. The breeze was picking up and blowing her hair into her face. She wrinkled her nose and shoved it behind her ears before lifting her gun to fire two shots. Mihnea held his hand up to his eyes.

"Well, you're getting **closer**." he announced. "You actually hit the edge of the circle that time."

He looked as though he was trying not to laugh at her. Connie made a face.

"Shut up, you." she said, giving him a kick to the shin. "I think that's pretty damn good with it being as dark as it is."

"I suppose you're expecting to shoot at vampires in the middle of the day then?" he teased.

She grit her teeth. "Ooohhh... just go down there and get the bloody thing before I use **you** for target practice!"

He bit his tongue between his teeth and snickered before rushing off to collect the parchment they had tacked onto a tree. Twilight was quickly fading to full darkness. Mihnea wasn't afraid of anything out there, but it was best for them to get back to the castle. All sorts of nasty, creepy-crawly things came out at night and neither of them wanted to deal with them.

With the target retrieved, they began heading back to the castle. As they walked amongst the ancient trees and twisted branches, Connie thought of something.

"What was the name of the person Dumbledore said he talked to?"

Mihnea glanced at her sideways. "He didn't say the whole thing." he told her. "All I heard was Nicholas."

Constance stopped walking. Hermione had been researching the name 'Nicholas Flamel' for the boys for weeks now. Why it was so difficult to figure out who that was, she didn't know. She thought that was a pretty easy name to recognize. She shared her suspicions with her cousin and he blinked at her.

"The philosopher's stone?" he asked, then paused thoughtfully. "That... actually makes sense, given how much they're putting into protecting it..."

The girl nodded and frowned. "But I don't get it. If someone wanted a philosopher's stone badly enough, they could just make one themselves. I mean, Aunt Syn has a copy of every book ever written about it..."

Mihnea's expression changed and he looked at her like she said something incredibly stupid. "Most of mom's books are ancient and there aren't many copies of them left anymore. Certain types of alchemy border on being black sorcery. There aren't many wizards who'd be willing to use it and they probably wouldn't be able to make it work anyway. It's easier to steal a stone that already exists than to make a new one from scratch."

_Oh, right._ She thought, feeling foolish. _I knew that. _She coughed.

"You know, I've heard the boys talking about how they think Snape is trying to steal something."

Her cousin actually looked offended by that. "You don't honestly believe that do you? You should know better than that!"

"I didn't say I **believed** it, I just said that's what they think..."

Her words were cut off when Mihnea went still and held up a hand to stop her. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.

"I smell blood." he told her in a low voice.

Connie looked around at the trees surrounding them. Had someone followed them out there?

"Human blood?" she asked.

The boy shook his head. "Not human. It's some sort of animal." he grabbed her hand and veered to the left. "This way."

It didn't take long for them to pick up a visible blood trail. Constance wouldn't have thought it was blood at all if Mihnea wasn't certain of the smell. Rather than red smears on the foliage and ground, they were following a train of silver droplets. What sort of animal had silver blood? It had to be a magical creature because no ordinary animal had blood that color.

They came upon a small opening in the trees and saw a large, white shape laying on the ground in a massive pool of silver. Neither of them had any idea what it was until they got close enough to make out the horn. It was a unicorn. A beautiful, pure white mare with her throat ripped out. But judging from the strangled breath sounds, she was still alive.

"Oh my God!" Constance gasped, running over to it. "What would do something like this?"

The unicorn's pale blue eyes peered up at her when she ran her palm down it's nose. The beasts had a preference for the touch of female virgins, and the mare seemed somewhat soothed by it. Mihnea frowned, looking disturbed.

"Nothing natural." he replied. "Unicorns don't have any predators. Nothing would touch one except for something very **bad**."

Connie looked up and understood his meaning. The unicorn tail hairs and horns used by the magical world were taken from animals that died naturally. They were too pure and noble to be hunted down and killed... and this one had obviously been savagely attacked. Left this way, the mare would bleed out – enduring the suffering of a slow, painful death. The girl gave the unicorn a final pat on the nose, then stood and drew her pistol.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered.

The mare studied her with intelligent eyes then closed them, almost serenely, when she pointed her gun at it's head. She fired a single shot, putting the animal out of it's misery. The moment she saw it was dead, Constance started shaking. Persephone slipped from her fingers as she fell to the ground to vomit up everything she had eaten for supper. Her sandy brown hair spilled down around her, blocking out the light and giving the impression that she was isolated in her own little world. What had she** done**?

She had killed a unicorn. Connie knew it was the right thing to do. Killing the mare quickly was a merciful act. But it still made her sick. These animals were symbols of purity and innocence. No matter what the circumstances were, it felt so... **wrong** to be responsible for the death of one. Mihnea didn't say a word about her reaction. He just knelt down and held back her hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

"It would have died anyway." he told her quietly. "It's better this way."

She nodded, thinking that she was through throwing up. But the motion made her sick all over again, and her body didn't seem to recognize there was nothing left in her to come out. She retched until even bile couldn't come up anymore. God, this was awful. Her sides were going to be sore for a week.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked when she finally finished.

Constance slowly pushed herself up off the ground and wiped her mouth. She still felt nauseous and shaky.

"I'll be fine." she said. She said it more to assure herself than him. But when she attempted to take a step, she wobbled and tripped.

"Whoa!" Mihnea exclaimed, lunging forward to grab her before she hit the ground. "You are **not** okay." he told her, examining her. He paused and looked around at the darkness surrounding them. "Whatever did this may still be out here. We need to leave."

The girl slowly inclined her head. They didn't need to be out here with some monster running around. Mihnea fished her gun up from the ground and handed it to her. He then turned for her to climb onto his back so he could carry her back to the castle.

"Please don't take me to the hospital wing." she said quietly as he ran.

"Do I look stupid?" he replied, then glanced at her over his shoulder. "I hate hospitals too. I'll take you to your room."

Of course he hated hospitals. He'd been through too much when he was a baby that had probably scarred him for life.

"How do you intend to get in there without getting caught?" she asked.

"You're going to give me the password." he told her. "And I never get caught. We'll be careful."

Constance felt too sick to argue. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and not come out for a long, long time.


	9. A Grand Adventure

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Hermione Granger was a very perceptive sort of person. It was one of the reasons she was so smart. If there was something to be discovered or learned, her nose was buried in it, and when something was happening around her, she paid attention. So perhaps it wasn't surprising that when one of her friends started acting strange, she was the first to take notice.

Ever since they'd met on the train during that first journey to Hogwarts, she and Connie had become fast friends. Of all the students in Gryffindor, the two of them were the most similar. Highly intelligent, exceptionally bright, and behaving as though they were much older than they actually were. Hermione didn't want to make herself sound boastful, but it was hard to find people who could have a conversation on her level. Harry and Ron were wonderful friends of course, but it just wasn't the same. They'd run to her rescue when she'd been cornered in the bathroom on Halloween. A group of people couldn't experience something like that and not bond in some way. Each of them were different, but they could respect those differences. Constance Stryker, on the other hand, was an actual kindred spirit. She understood things others didn't and since she was a girl, she and Hermione could connect on a level that was impossible to reach with a boy. The girl was a good friend, a best friend even, so she was understandably concerned when she saw Connie wasn't acting like herself. She was quieter than usual and was going up to her room to do homework on her own rather than working on it with Hermione. So she decided to prod her about it to see what was going on.

"Are you okay?" she asked when the two of them were alone in the room they shared with Lavender and Pavarti. "You've been off lately."

Constance had been working on an essay for Transfiguration before Hermione interrupted her. The girl blinked, then glanced back down at the parchment in her lap.

"I really don't want to talk about it." she told her. "I'll be fine."

"Well, you certainly don't **look** fine." the bushy haired girl replied. "Has something happened? You have me worried sick!"

Connie looked thoughtful for a moment, then glanced at the door as if making sure there was no one else around. "Alright, but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

She quickly nodded. If it was something she didn't want others to know, then surely it was something important. The girl sitting in front of her took a deep breath, then told her about seeing the dying unicorn in the forbidden forest. It was no wonder Constance was acting strange. She made the sight sound horrific, and Hermione was shocked.

"It was **awful**, Hermione." the girl said. "She was beautiful, and there was nothing I could do... and she **looked** at me. I know unicorns are animals, but it seemed like she knew exactly what was happening. It... botheredme. I still don't understand how anything could have done it."

She swallowed and thought back to Harry's retelling of what he had seen during his detention with Draco.

"Harry saw something like that too." she informed her. "I don't think he got as close as you did though. Hagrid says something has been out there killing them for a while now..." she paused. "What on earth were you doing in the Forbidden Forest to begin with? You know it's dangerous out there!"

Constance suddenly became cautious. Almost like she were trying to figure out what to say without revealing too much.

"Mihnea was showing me something." she said at last.

Hermione gaped. "**Showing** you something? What if you had gotten caught?"

"But we didn't get caught." the girl said firmly. "And I don't lecture you about running around the castle at night with the boys, do I?"

No, she didn't, and Granger had no idea how she knew about that in the first place. When she saw the expression on her face, Connie gave her a look.

"I'm a light sleeper. I hear you when you come back late." she cocked her head to the side. "Snape isn't the one trying to steal the stone, by the way."

Her eyes went wide in astonishment. "How did you know about the stone! I just recently figured it out!"

"I've read about Nicholas Flamel before." she said simply. "And none of you asked me, so I stayed out of it."

Oh, that was just like her, Hermione thought in irritation. Letting them run around trying to figure out something she already knew instead of just telling them. She'd been researching Nicholas Flamel's name for** weeks**. So much time and effort could have been spared if Constance had just informed them about it when she heard they were trying to figure out who he was...

"Who do** you** think is trying to steal it then?" Hermione questioned, feeling extremely irritated.

Constance looked at her seriously. "Professor Quirrel."

* * *

><p>"Professor Quirrel!" Harry exclaimed. "You think it's Professor Quirrel? <strong>Why<strong>?"

Hermione dragged Constance down to the common room so she could tell Harry and Ron what she thought of the situation. Both of them were shocked by what she had to say.

"Think about it, Harry." the girl said. "He's a new teacher, he's the one who found the troll, and he's creepy."

Ron gave her a look. "No, **Snape** is the creepy one."

Connie sniffed. "I happen to like Professor Snape, thank you very much. Quirrel is weird and he smells awful." she paused at the odd looks they were giving her. "And yes, I realize those aren't appropriate reasons to not like someone, but he gives me the willies and I don't trust him any further than I can spit."

Harry stared at her. "You know he smells funny because he packs his turban with garlic, right? I mean, after the vampire..."

"That is complete horseshit." Constance spat, shocking them all with her language. "If that man ever faced a vampire and lived, then I'm the Queen of England. Garlic only wards off low level vampires and ghouls. It doesn't do a damn thing to the more powerful ones."

"What, are you a vampire expert now?" Ron asked.

"I **read**." the girl said with a huff, dropping back against the couch. "All I'm saying is nothing about Quirrel makes any sense."

"Well, I still think it's Snape, but **whoever **it is trying to steal it, they'll probably go after it tonight." Harry said resolutely. "No one would try while Dumbledore's here and McGonagall said the Ministry called him away to do something."

Hermione blinked at him. "You're not seriously suggesting that we go out there and try to stop them ourselves, are you?"

"Someone has to." he replied. "The adults wont listen, so that leaves us."

The weight of that sank it slowly. From her seat on the couch, Constance took in their expressions.

"Well, if you three are going off on some grand adventure, then I'm coming too."

Ron's mouth fell open. "You are not!" he exclaimed. "We've been working on this for months, and you think you can butt in and take over? I don't think so!"

Connie gave him a hard look. "I didn't ask for permission. I'm **telling** you that I'm going." she said firmly. "Besides, you said the only way to get past Fluffy was to put him to sleep with music, right? Do any of you know how to play an instrument?"

The trio looked amongst each other. "She has a point." Harry said.

"See? You need me." the girl told them. "Now, if we're going to run off and find the stone before someone else does, I suggest we come up with a plan first so we all know what we're doing."

* * *

><p>They came to the conclusion that the best way for them to get to the third floor undetected was to use Harry's invisibility cloak. It was a tight squeeze to get the four of them under it without their feet showing, but if they huddled <strong>very<strong> close together, it was possible. Connie's violin posed a problem with it taking up much needed space. Hermione found a spell that could shrink it down so it could fit into her pocket. Once they got everything prepared and were ready to go, Neville showed up. He hadn't heard exactly what they were planning on doing, but he didn't want them sneaking around the castle and getting in trouble. Hermione responded to his intrusion by petrifying him.

Connie just stared at her. "You **petrified** him! Do you realize how terrifying that has to be? Laying there on the floor not able to move for God knows how long?"

"Well, we can't have him running off and telling someone, can we?" the girl replied. But she did look like she felt bad about it, so as they walked past the boy laying on the floor, she told him that she was very sorry and would remove the spell the moment they got back.

When they reached the door to the room that contained the three-headed dog, they found that there was a harp enchanted to play itself sitting just inside. Fluffy was already fast asleep.

"Snape has been here already." Harry whispered.

"It's **Quirrel**." Constance hissed at him, eyes narrowed.

"It's** Snape**." Harry retorted, giving her a look of pure exasperation.

"Guys!" Hermione exclaimed as quietly as possible. "You'll wake up Fluffy!"

The reminder of the giant, potentially deadly creature in the room with them brought the argument to a screeching halt and they turned their attention back to the task at hand. They were just about to climb down the trapdoor the dog was guarding when all sound coming from the harp stopped. Constance had to quickly put her violin to her chin and start playing before Fluffy woke up enough to figure out there were intruders in his room. But it turned out there was nothing under the trapdoor to catch them. No floor, anyway. They fell right into a squirming mass of vines that immediately set to wrapping around their limbs. Connie felt her violin ripped out of her hands.

_Oh God, mom is going to kill me... _the girl thought.

But the situation was too serious for her to be worried about the fate of an instrument. They needed to figure out what this stuff was before it killed them. Constance and Hermione quickly identified it as Devil's Snare and relaxed so they could drop through to the floor beneath it. The boys though, had more trouble. Harry managed to calm down enough to drop down as well, but Ron freaked smooth out. They had to figure out a way to get him down before the plant strangled him to death.

"Okay, Devil's Snare is sensitive to light." Connie said, thinking it through. "Maybe we could hit it with fire?"

"Fire?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands. "How are we supposed to build one? We haven't got any wood!"

Good God in heaven, the stress of what they were doing must have melted the most important bits of her brain. Harry shot an incredulous look at her. "Are you a witch or not?"

That got through to her. Hermione realized she was being silly about the whole thing and snapped back into logical mode. She hit the Devil's Snare with a spell to conjure a bright, fiery light, and it suddenly let go of Ron. The boy dropped to the ground with a hard thud. He wasn't very happy about having to endure such a rough landing, but they not so gently reminded him that he was lucky to be alive.

The next order of business was to get past the room filled with flying keys. Harry had to do that one since he was the best flier. He whizzed around the room to catch the one key with a broken wing, and they used it to unlock the door that led to the next challenge. It looked like a massive chessboard where they would have to take the place of some of the pieces. This was Ron's arena. He was the chess master amongst them.

"Okay, Harry can be a bishop. Hermione, you'll be a rook, and I'll be a knight." he decided quickly, then looked at Constance. "I suppose that leaves the queen for you."

The selected pieces came to life and walked off the board so they could take their places. As they passed, they handed off their weapons so they could use them to attack the enemy pieces on the other side of the board. White had the first move, and it immediately became apparent that they were excellent strategists. Ron had a time moving everyone so they didn't get hurt by advancing pieces. Occasionally, they had to move into a position where they had to take down some of the white side's army. Constance found that the fencing lessons her mother insisted on her taking came in handy. She was in the position of being the most powerful piece on the board, so she wound up doing most of the defensive work. When all was said and done, Ron had to sacrifice himself so Harry would be able to checkmate the king. The white queen struck a blow that knocked the boy right off his stone horse. He fell to the ground and hit his head, knocking him unconscious. Once Harry made the final move to end the game, they all ran over to make sure he was okay.

"Oh my gosh, his head is bleeding!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you think he'll be alright?"

Constance gently touched the wound on Ron's head. "It's just a scrape. I think he's just been knocked out."

They could only hope he would be okay until they were able to get back upstairs. They still had a ways to go, and there was no telling how much more they would have to get through before finding the stone.

The next room held a large mountain troll. There wasn't really much they had to do in there because it had already been bashed over the head with something. They walked right by it as it laid on the floor snoring. The last thing they encountered was Snape's challenge. This proved to be the most difficult of the bunch. Rather than anything involving magic, it was a shelf set up with various bottles of potion and a logic puzzle they had to solve out to determine which was which. When they stepped into the room, the opening behind them immediately burst into flame, barring any attempt to go back. The door leading on to the next room was filled with fire as well, though it looked like a different type than the one behind them. They'd have to find the potion that would allow them to walk through it.

At first, Harry had the bright idea to just try the potions until they found one that worked. The thing that stopped him from going through with the plan was the puzzle's warning that three of the bottles contained a deadly poison. Making a mistake in decoding it could potentially kill one of them. It was a serious business, and Constance and Hermione put their heads together to figure it out.

"It's that one." Granger said, pointing to a particular bottle. "That's the one that will let you go on. And this one here will let us go back."

After a bit of an argument, Harry agreed to be the one to ahead, while the girls would go back to get Ron and take him to the main part of the castle. Before he could swallow down the potion, Constance held up a hand to stop him.

"Wait." she said. "If Quirrel has already been through here, then there may not be enough potion left for you."

Harry made a face. "I'm telling you, it's Snape." he said.

Constance shot him an annoyed look. "It's **Quirrel.**" she insisted. "And anyway, it doesn't matter who it is because if they drank too much of the potion, there wont be enough for it to work properly and you'll be burned alive trying to get through the door."

That made the boy look nervous and he studied the bottle in his hand. "Uh... you're the best at potions. How do we figure this out?"

The brown headed girl looked at the bottle and narrowed her eyes. "Damn it, I **hate** math..." she said, then took a deep breath to steel herself. "Does anyone have a quill or a pencil or something?"

Hermione searched through her pockets and found a small quill and a spare bit of parchment. Connie did a few calculations to determine if the potion left in the bottle would be enough to function properly for someone Harry's weight. There were no markers on the bottle to indicate how much was in there, so she had to guess. Everything **seemed** right and she figured the margin of error would allow for a small bit of difference without being dangerous. She gave Harry the go ahead to drink his potion and he walked right through the flames leading to the next room. The girls sincerely hoped there was nothing beyond he would need their help with, because now he was completely on his own.

"Is there enough of this one for both of us to make it back?" Hermione questioned, studying the bottle they would have to use.

Constance, thankfully, didn't have to resort to mathematics to figure that one out. "If it was brewed to allow one man to go through and Harry's bottle still left enough to him to use, then I'm pretty sure we could split it in half and it'll be fine." She paused thoughtfully. "But we need to leave enough for Harry."

That meant pulling out the parchment again. She did a quick calculation and came to the conclusion that each of them should take three small swallows. That would leave enough potion for Harry to get through the flames when he came back through. The potion he had taken to get past the first set of flames would stay in his system long enough to be useful when he came back. They drank the designated amount of potion, set the bottle on the floor so Harry would be able to tell it was the one to use, then walked through the fire filling the doorway that would take them back to the chessboard. All the pieces they destroyed during the game had somehow reformed themselves and were back in their original positions. They ran over to Ron to see if they could wake him up. He was woozy and clumsy on his feet, but with assistance, he **could** walk. Thank goodness, because there would have been no way for them to carry him out on their own. As tracked their way backwards, they found that nothing really stood in their way. Even the Devil's Snare untangled itself and let them through without attempting to attack. When they finally got past Fluffy for the second time and were certain they were safe, the girls checked up on Ron. He hadn't said a single word during their escape.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked him.

Ron's ginger head slumped. "I don't feel so good..."

Constance frowned and held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up, Ron?"

He squinted at them with eyes that looked glazed over. "Uh... four?"

Connie and Hermione looked at each other. Double vision meant he probably had a concussion. They needed to get to the hospital wing as quickly as possible to make sure he would be alright.


	10. Knowing Without Knowing

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Mihnea was sitting on the bed in his room looking over his Astrology notes. The nocturnal subject of Astronomy had always been his favorite and at the end of his second year, his grades were high enough to allow him to advance to the class that actually covered the magical influences of heavenly bodies rather than just their names and locations. It was the only time the rules allowed for being up and about late at night. Not that it stopped him of course, but it was nice to not have to worry about sneaking around every once in a while. Their final exam was scheduled to take place in a week. He had no doubt he'd be able to do it with no trouble, but it was still best to look over all his star maps to prepare. Unfortunately, his private study session was interrupted by something he never would have expected.

"Mihnea!" a female voice, almost dainty sounding, called out of nowhere. "Didn't your mother ever teach you about keeping a mirror around!"

The boy sat up straighter and blinked. The Slytherins all had private bedrooms with locking doors. Having roommates opened up the chance of being attacked while sleeping – which the members of his house had a habit of doing when they were upset with someone. The door was to his left, and there was no way a girl could have gotten that close to his room without him noticing. He couldn't smell anything that would indicate a person was nearby...

"Damn it, Mihnea!" the voice said, sounding like it was getting irritated. "Find a goddamn mirror so I can talk to you!"

It had to be one of his mother's spirits. All the guns she made had them. It was one of the magical effects she had on things she built that came out whether she wanted it to or not. Now that he had Venom... it **had** to be the spirit of his gun. Mihnea set his star maps to the side, and stood up.

"There's a mirror in the bathroom." he said, not knowing exactly where the spirit was.

"Well, go in there then!"

He glanced sideways to make sure his bedroom door was locked, then went into the bathroom. It took only a few seconds for the spirit that had been talking to him to appear. His eyes went wide when he saw it.

"You have **got** to be kidding me." he said, trying to resist the urge to drop his mouth open. "You're my gun spirit?"

It was a girl. A very pretty girl with curly blonde hair pulled up into an elegant looking coif. Diamond pins were placed in it at various points to catch the light, making her look like a princess who didn't want to bother with a tiara. And she was wearing a frilly looking pink dress. His mother always told him that the spirit of someone's gun was a manifestation of a part of the owner's personality. So how in the hell did he wind up with a fucking **princess**? In a gun name **Venom**? The girl placed her hands on her hips and gave him a hard look.

"What, do you have a problem with girls, your highness?"

He wondered why on earth she was addressing him that way, then was hit with realization. His dad was the No Life King, so he **was **a prince... sort of. That didn't fully explain the frilly, over-feminine figure standing in his mirror though.

"Um... no." he replied carefully. "I just didn't expect you to look this way..."

"Were you expecting Lara Croft to show up or something?" she asked, still looking upset with him.

"Well..." He began. Lara Croft would have made a bit more sense to him, but he probably would have been shocked either way. "It's just... you're wearing **pink**."

The spirit looked down at her dress and sighed. "Oh, fine." she huffed, and her dress changed to a less frilly design made out of light green silk. "Is this more to your taste, your highness?"

Mihnea made a face. "Please don't call me that."

"Why?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "It's what you are. Would you prefer I called you Min-Min?"

"Jesus Christ, **no**!" he exclaimed. His mother's spirit called him that, and he **hated **it.

"Well, you're just going to have to put up with 'your highness' then, aren't you?" she said prissily. "My name is Belladonna by the way, but you can call me Bella."

The boy blinked at her. "Um... could I call you Donna instead? Bella reminds me of _Twilight_ too much."

The female spirit gave a start. "Oh, hell, I didn't think of that! Yes, call me Donna then. I don't want to run around being associated with **that** nit-wit."

_Thank God._ He thought. At least his spirit had some sense about her. He cleared his throat.

"So... what is this about?" he asked. "Did you randomly decide to come introduce yourself or something?"

Donna pulled a nail file out of nowhere and started working on her nails. "Actually, I came here to tell you something." she said. "Connie and her little friends think that your creepy Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to steal the philosopher's stone tonight, so they've run off to find it."

Mihnea's eyes narrowed. "**Excuse me?**"

"Yep." the girl said as she blew dust from her fingers. "They had to sneak past a huge three-headed dog that could have eaten them, got caught in some Devil's Snare that tried to strangle them to death, and they were playing as pieces in a massive game of wizard's chess when I decided to come back and tell you." she shrugged, as though it was a small thing. "Persephone told me to butt out, but when Connie nearly got her head lopped off by a pawn, I thought you'd want to know about it."

Damn straight, he wanted to know! It sounded like they had gotten into something that could get them killed.

"Where are they now?" he asked, fully intending to go drag Constance's ass out of whatever mess she'd gotten into before she got hurt or worse.

"Um..." the spirit put her nail file away and tapped her chin with a finger, thinking. "It's somewhere below that room with the big cerberus on the third floor."

Mihnea didn't ask any more questions. He immediately left the bathroom and pulled open his bedroom door to go find them. He paused when he heard Snape barking at someone down in the common room. A couple of Slytherins had gotten into a fight and it sounded like he was trying to break them up. Getting a teacher involved could be a good thing. If he had to get past a cerberus, he'd probably wind up having to kill it. That would raise too many questions and get the whole lot of them expelled. So rather than sneaking out as he usually would have done, he headed straight for the middle of the common room.

"Professor Snape!"

The Potions Master looked over from the two boys he was giving a lecture to. "I hope this is **important**, Mr Bassarab." he drawled. "As you can see, I'm a bit busy."

_Damn._ Mihnea thought. With other Slytherins around, he couldn't come out and say it where they could hear. None of them knew the reason why the third floor was off limits.

"It's important." he said, then glanced at the two younger boys, hoping he would catch that he didn't want to say anything in front of them. "**Very** important."

His head of house arched a brow, then gave the boys he was lecturing a hard look. "Get back up to your rooms." he commanded harshly. "If there's any more fighting, I'll have you both transferred to Hufflepuff."

The two Slytherins looked horrified by the threat and immediately scampered off to do as they were told. Snape smoothly walked over to Mihnea and grabbed his arm to pull him out of the common room.

"This had better be good, Mr. Bassarab." he warned once they were in the hallway outside the dormitory. "What is it?"

Mihnea took a deep breath. "You know that very important thing that I know absolutely nothing about that's hidden on the third floor?"

The Potions Master narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. He probably already knew Mihnea had an idea of what was up there after listening in on the meeting he'd had with the other teachers in his office. He simply motioned for him to continue.

"Well... there could **possibly** be a group of Gryffindors up there trying to stop a certain teacher from getting it."

Snape gave him a serious look. "You know that for a fact, Mr. Bassarab?"

"I don't **know** anything about it, sir." he said, meaning the exact opposite. "I just have a very strong suspicion." Mihnea paused and finally broke down. "If my cousin gets hurt, my parents will kill me."

Severus studied him for a moment, then pointed at the wall leading back to the common room. "Stay here." he told him, then ran off.

Like hell Mihnea was going to stay there. If Constance got hurt, aunt Integra and uncle Ed would kill him. Then his mother would raise him from the grave so she and his dad could kill him all over again. He had to make sure Connie was alright. So he waited until Snape was out of sight, then went out himself.

* * *

><p>The trio of pre-teens ran into Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape on their way to the hospital wing. The two heads of houses must have figured out they had gone after the stone and sent word to Dumbledore so he would return to the castle.<p>

"Mr. Potter isn't with you?" The headmaster asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He's still down there. There was only enough potion left for one person to go on..."

It looked like he knew what that meant and he didn't wait around to ask any more questions. The elderly wizard rushed off toward the third floor corridor with Snape following right behind. McGonagall took over escorting them to the hospital wing. They were lectured about their poor behavior and lack of judgment the whole way. But surprisingly, she didn't take any house points away. Not yet, at least. She was probably too worried about the health of one of her students to think about it.

When they finally got to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey took one look at Ron and declared that he had a concussion. She confined him to bed rest and gave him a potion to help him sleep. Constance and Hermione didn't have any injuries aside from a few scrapes and bruises, but they still had to sit through being examined and having them bandaged up.

"Do you think Harry will be alright?" Hermione asked when the medi-witch finally left them to check on Ron.

Constance looked worried. "I really hope so. There's no telling what else was left..."

She was interrupted by the curtain separating the two girls from the rest of the room being violently drawn open. Connie found herself facing a set of extremely green, very upset looking eyes.

"What the bloody hell were you **thinking**?" her cousin hissed.

Hermione gasped loudly at his sudden appearance and Constance had to clamp a hand over her mouth. "Be quiet." she whispered, then looked at Mihnea. "How did you get in here? It's after hours!"

"That didn't stop you, did it?" he questioned, still looking pissed. "A cerberus, Devil's Snare, and wizard's chess, Connie? Do you know how many different ways you could have been killed!"

Hermione's eyes went wide and she pushed Connie's hand away from her mouth. "How did you know about all that?"

"Because I know everything." Mihnea snapped, giving her only a momentary glance before turning all his anger back onto Constance. "God damn it, you **know** if something happens to you, I'd be skinned alive for it. Why didn't you **tell** me?"

"Because it was very sudden and there was no reason to tell you about it." the girl said quietly, trying not to draw attention to the fact he was there. "Nothing bad happened..."

"Why is Weasley laid up in bed looking half dead then?" he demanded. "And I suppose Snape and Dumbledore are dragging Potter's unconscious arse up here because he decided to take a **nap**?"

Both of the girls stared at him in horror. Harry was unconscious? What on earth happened to him? They were about to ask when the sound of the hospital wing's doors opening made Mihnea quickly step back behind a section of fabric covering the back wall so he wouldn't be seen. Connie pushed open the front curtain so they could see what was happening. Sure enough, Snape and Dumbledore were carrying Harry between them as they brought him to a bed for Madam Pomfrey to examine. The boy looked awful. His face was pale, and he had cuts and scrapes from some kind of fight. When the headmaster caught them peering out, he gave them a reassuring look.

"I believe Mr. Potter will be perfectly fine once he wakes up." he told them. He shot a glance over their shoulders then cleared his throat. "Thank you for your assistance, Severus. Perhaps it would be best for you and Minerva to oversee cleanup upstairs."

Snape looked like he thought something was odd about the sudden request, but he didn't make any comment about it. He and McGonagall nodded and left to go do whatever 'cleanup' the headmaster was talking about. Once they were gone, Dumbledore looked pointedly over the girl's shoulders again.

"I am going to check on Mr Weasley." he said, as if he were speaking to them. "In the meantime, I believe it would be advisable for anyone else who may be present to find their way back to their dormitory before they are seen."

With that, he turned his back and Mihnea ducked out from behind the curtain to make sure he wasn't looking.

"You're sure you're alright?" he whispered to Connie.

"I'm fine." she replied just as quietly. "You need to go back before you're spotted."

He nodded. "**Please** don't scare me like that again." he told her, then quickly stepped past Dumbledore and rushed out before anyone had the chance to turn around and see he had been there.

Hermione blinked at the door. "How on earth does he do that?" she asked. "I've never seen anyone move so fast without making any sound..."

Constance shrugged. "He's always been that way. I think he's just light-footed."

They both grew quiet when the headmaster walked over to them.

"You both are very lucky to have come out of this with only a few scrapes and bumps." he commented, then smiled knowingly. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were fortunate to have you watching out for them. I imagine it could have been much worse if you hadn't been there."

They nodded in thanks. Neither of them was really sure what to say after everyone knew they had been out doing some serious rule breaking. Dumbledore smiled again, then pulled something very small from the pocket of his robes. He cast a spell to make it large again, and Connie saw it was her violin.

"I believe this is yours, Miss Stryker." he said, holding it out to her. "I found it tangled up in the Devil's Snare. It would be a shame to lose such a lovely instrument."

Constance took it carefully. When she'd lost track of it while caught up in the plant, she thought she might not ever get it back. Now she didn't have to worry about explaining to her parents why she suddenly didn't have her new and very expensive violin.

"Thank you, sir." she said, truly grateful. "And... thank you for not getting Mihnea in trouble. I know he wasn't supposed to be in here after hours..."

The headmaster cocked his head to the side. "Why, I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Stryker. I haven't **seen** anyone here other than yourselves."

Ah, so that was the way of it, Connie thought. There were times when Dumbledore acted so strange that it seemed he might not be completely together. But it was at times like this when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew a lot more than anyone would ever expect. Perhaps that was why he was so eccentric in the first place. Knowing things could do that to a person.

* * *

><p>A.N: I am totally not <em>Twilight <em>bashing. That was all Mihnea right there, not me. ~quickly runs away~

P.S. I think Mihnea's gun spirit likes being over dramatic to scare people into paying attention to her. I didn't intend for her to come out that way, but Belladonna took over and did her own thing. Those pesky spirits tend to do things like that. I hope Connie's spirit isn't as overbearing and pushy as Mihnea's is. O_o


	11. A Small Mistake

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance and Hermione were allowed to leave the hospital the next morning to return to class. Ron was kept under observation for an extra day before he was let out. Harry though, remained unconscious for the better part of a week. When he finally woke up, Madam Pomfrey kept an extra close eye on him to make sure he would be alright. Needless to say, it was a good while before the rest of them learned what happened that night.

"It **was **Quirrel." Harry told them. He rubbed at the scrapes he still had on his nose. "He's the one who was killing the unicorns. Voldemort was living on the back of his head and he was drinking their blood to stay alive. That's why he wanted the stone."

"Don't say his name!" Ron exclaimed, glancing around like he expected some dark specter to jump out and attack them.

No wonder the professor's turban smelled so bad, Connie thought. There had been a half-dead dark wizard without a body latched onto him like a parasite. Still, she couldn't help but feel vindicated.

"You see? I** told **you it wasn't Snape."

Ron recovered from his sudden bout of fear at the sound of Voldemort's name and shot a dirty look in her direction. "Yeah, yeah." he said, waving a hand at her. "You were right and we were wrong. Come off it already."

Hermione scooted forward in her armchair, looking worried. "You don't think he'll try to come back, do you? You Know Who. I mean, he wont be able to do much without a body of his own..."

"I don't know." Harry replied. "I hope not."

That's all they could really do, wasn't it? Hope. But the fact of the matter was that even though Quirrel's body had been destroyed, Voldemort's spirit remained. It was out there somewhere and if he could come back once, it was likely he could find a way to do it again.

Even with all the serious events that had recently taken place, there was still the end of term to think about. Poor Harry had missed a full week of review and still had to take his final exams on schedule. That meant the four of them spent several long nights together helping him cram. Studying that way meant he probably wouldn't remember the information long term, but he'd most likely have done the same thing regardless of the circumstances.

The feast on the last day of school was when the coveted house cup would be awarded. Mihnea said Slytherin had never lost the house cup for as long as he'd been there. Sure enough, the Great Hall was decked out in green and silver and banners bearing the Slytherin crest hung over every table. Connie didn't really keep track of who had how many points, but the tally on the display board just outside the Hall was shocking. Gryffindor was in last place. Hell, even **Hufflepuff** was ahead of them. That was almost embarrassing. Draco was already seated at his house's table, gloating like he was the whole reason they'd won. When he caught sight of them walking past, he opened his mouth to say something snotty. Constance saw Mihnea lean back and reach behind two people to give the boy's ear a hard twist to keep him quiet. Once all the students were present and seated, Dumbledore rose from the teachers table to announce the winner. Just why he had to do that, Connie didn't know. It should have been obvious from the color of the banners hanging everywhere. But when he began speaking, she paused and listened intently.

"Yes, yes, Slytherin is in first place with 475 points, and I congratulate all of you on a job well done." the headmaster proclaimed. "However, in light of recent events, I have a few last minute points to award."

The entire hall went silent to see who would be receiving these new points. Depending on who it was, the winner of the cup could change. Dumbledore looked around for a moment, then focused on Hermione.

"To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect and logic when others were in grave peril, fifty points."

Holy hell, he was giving points to Gryffindor. Hermione blushed, and the headmaster smiled before going on.

"To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, fifty points."

Fred and George reached around several people to give their brother hard slaps on the back in congratulations. Connie was smiling proudly at him when she heard her name called out.

"To Miss Constance Stryker, for an impressive utilization of knowledge in potions and mathematics to spare others from a most painful death, fifty points."

Her eyes went wide. She hadn't thought she'd done all that. She had just been double checking to make sure everything was in order before they started drinking... She was so shocked by it, she almost missed Harry being given another sixty points for 'pure nerve and outstanding courage'. When the loud shouts and applause died down, Connie heard several Gryffindors say that they were tied with Slytherin now. What on earth was the protocol for a tie? Were they supposed to share the award, or did there have to be a tie breaker?

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly. "I'm not quite finished." he announced. "It takes a great deal of bravery to face your enemies, but a good deal more to stand up to your friends. Therefore, I award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Neville's mouth fell open and he looked around at the students who were shaking him and letting out loud cheers. He had lain on the floor all night unable to move until McGonagall was free to go back upstairs to remove the spell Hermione had put on him. He had earned those things and though he had gotten the fewest of the lot of them, his points were the ones that put their house in the lead. As Dumbledore changed all the banners to gold and crimson, the Slytherins looked **pissed**. Several of them snatched their hats off in disgust or beat their fists on the table. No one else seemed to care. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff joined in the wild celebration of their win. The first years would find out later that it was the first time Gryffindor had won the house cup in six years.

It was a wonderful way to end her first year of school.

* * *

><p>"One minute it's giant spiders and trolls, and the next it's three-headed dogs and plants trying to strangle you to death." Integra said with one of her cigars clamped firmly between her teeth. "I swear, if that bloody school doesn't kill you, nothing ever will."<p>

Dumbledore or McGonagall must have written home about what happened, because when Constance and Mihnea got back to the manor, they already knew everything. There was no point in trying to hide or lie about it. Connie's fork paused halfway to her mouth.

"Giant spiders?" she asked, confused. "I didn't do anything with giant spiders..."

Mihnea raised his hand. "That was me."

"**What?** When?" she asked.

"My first year." he replied. "I was exploring the dark forest and found a whole nest of them. Those webs you saw when I took you there? Those were made by the** babies**. The fully grown ones are as big as a house. Why do you think I came home that Christmas asking dad to teach me how to control animals? If you think dealing with a cerberus is bad, you try having thirty of those nasty fuckers chase after you."

Aunt Syn smacked Mihnea in the back of the head. "Watch your language!"

Connie's mother closed her good eye and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don't tell me things like this." she said. "The more I hear, the less likely I am to let you go back."

"Oh, come now, master." Alucard said with a deep chuckle. "You said it yourself. If they survive the school, nothing will ever be able to kill them. Survival is a life skill that can only be learned through first-hand experience." he gave the knight a grin. "You were facing down traitorous family members and killing vampires when you were her age. Surely the young master is capable of handling a dog and a few weeds."

Integra glared him down in disapproval, then sighed. "I suppose you have a point." she conceded.

Connie's dad opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but was interrupted by their butler walking in. Jackson had Archimedes perched on his left arm and the bird held no less than three letters in his beak.

"Mail from school, I believe." the man reported.

Archimedes flew from his arm to perch on Connie's shoulder. She winced when his talons dug in, and she gave him a small nudge. The owl immediately corrected himself and found a way to keep his balance without hurting her. She then reached to remove the envelopes from his mouth. Two of them were for her, and one was addressed to Mihnea.

"Must be final grades." her cousin said as he took his letter and started ripping it open.

Constance opened the first of hers and found he was right. The parchment displayed all of the final grades she'd received in her classes. She'd gotten O's in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms,, Astronomy, and Herbology. History of Magic was an E – which was still a good grade in her opinion given how boring the class was – and in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she'd gotten an A.

"How on earth did you get an A in your DADA class?" Edmund asked when she passed it over for her parents to examine. "You should have done better than that!"

Connie made a face. "I couldn't help it!" she exclaimed. "Professor Quirrel was the one with Voldemort in the back of his head! He wore that awful turban, he smelled funny, and he **stuttered.** I couldn't understand half the things that came out of his mouth."

Mihnea glanced up from his grades. "He did have an awful stutter." he agreed.

"Ah ha." her mother said, sounding like she thought that wasn't a good enough excuse. She looked at her over the top of her glasses. "What's the other letter about?"

The girl turned her attention to the second letter she'd received. It looked suspiciously like the same scrawl Professor Snape used to grade his papers. Sure enough, when she opened it she found it was from the Potions Master.

_Miss Stryker,_

_Be advised that while you have proven proficient at third year potions, there remains two years of material that you must master before moving on. Since you have been moved up, you will have only two years, rather than five, to prepare for your potions OWL. I accept no less than O level students into my NEWT level classes, so you must be prepared to do much more than simply pass your examination. As such, I will require an essay, one per week, on the list of topics I have included with this notice. They are to be delivered to me no later than 3:00pm each Friday. Tardiness in delivery for any reason will result in failure. The grades on these assignments will be tallied into your average in my class next year. I expect the arrival of your first assignment by the end of this week. - SS_

Constance glanced up from the letter. "It's from Snape. I have to write essays over the summer to prepare for the potions OWL..." she looked back down at the parchment in her hands. "What's an OWL?"

"Ordinary Wizarding Level exams." Mihnea replied. "You take them in your fifth year. I forgot about you having to take your potions one early..."

_Oh, _she thought. Well, that made sense. If she had skipped two years of classes, then it would be in her best interests to do assignments over the summer to prove she knew the material, wouldn't it?

"And..." she studied the letter again. "What's a NEWT?"

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests." her cousin reported. "Those are seventh year before you graduate."

Aunt Syn sniffed. "Finally. The one time they give something an accurate name."

Constance found herself agreeing. If it was a test required for graduation, then it probably would be 'nastily exhausting'. She looked in the envelope the letter came in and found two more pieces of parchment. One was the list of essay topics Snape mentioned. The second... the second she didn't immediately recognize. It looked like a spare scrap of paper with math figures randomly scribbled on it. It took her a moment to realize it was the paper she'd used to work out whether the potions in Snape's logic puzzle were safe for use. How the devil had he gotten it? She glanced back at Snape's letter and found an additional note at the bottom.

_P.S. Ten points from Gryffindor for being negligent in the placement of your decimal points._

Connie's eyes widened. "He... he..."

Her parents exchanged a curious look, then turned back to her.

"Constance?" Integra questioned.

The girl thrust the paper out to them. "He took **points** from me! And school's **over**! He can't do that can he?"

"What for?" her cousin asked, leaning over to get a look at the parchment.

When he saw the Potions Master had written, Mihnea snorted and clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing too hard. Connie shot an icy death glare in his direction and he coughed.

"It's Professor Snape." he told her. "He can do whatever he wants." the boy cleared his throat. "You should be happy he likes you. He could have not given you the option of doing extra essays."

She didn't particularly care how much he liked her at the moment. Snape had disciplined her for something stupid that hadn't even happened in class! Her father read Snape's note, then looked at her parchment of figures.

"Jesus, Connie, this is simple Algebra." he chided. "How the devil did you wind up putting a decimal in the wrong place?"

"It was a life threatening situation!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't really worried about writing everything out correctly! I knew what the number **was**, I just accidentally put the decimal one space too far." she couldn't believe she had points taken off for such a thing. "I wasn't even in class!"

Her father looked at her sideways. "Changing the decimal placement changes the whole number. You **know** that, Connie."

"But I **knew** what the right number was!" she insisted. "I was just in a hurry and I wrote it down wrong!"

Edmund quirked a brow. "And what would have happened if someone else had gone from your numbers and didn't go back to check that they were right?"

Constance paused and closed her mouth. Well, considering that everything turned out alright in the end, nothing would have happened. But if the situation were different... it could have turned out horribly. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

"Okay, fine." she said. "I made a mistake. But I still think it's stupid to have points taken off over the summer."

"Well, if you don't like having points taken away for something like this, then there's only one solution." her dad told her.

_Oh shit, no... _she thought. She knew exactly what he was going to say, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Oh **please**, daddy." she said, giving her best attempt at a pout. "Please don't..."

He shook his head. "Nope. We're going to do two hours of Algebraic equations twice a week for the rest of the summer."

Constance wanted to start crying. She should have just kept her mouth shut and not said anything about it. Now she had points taken off for a stupid reason** and **extra math classes. She slumped in her chair and banged her forehead against the table.

_Someone just shoot me._ She thought. Math was **awful**.

* * *

><p>Poor Connie. I totally feel her pain. I would want to shoot myself too after being threatened with that. O_o<p>

Okie dokie, Question and Answer time!

_Can Syn age and/or die? - _She can die, but she wont stay dead permanently unless she and Alucard are killed at the same time. Since share pieces of their souls, both of them are going to be around until Alucard finds a worthy opponent to kill him, or until they both get tired of living and decide to go on and die. I think, given the connection they have, Syn would have either stopped aging completely when they were first mated, or she ages so slowly that you don't notice any change in her.

_Can the guns with spirits magically repair themselves? - _No. The spirit of the damaged gun will live on and can move into another gun inhabited by a spirit. (such as when Jackal dragged Lasher off to live in his gun when Radu destroyed Lasher's gun.) The physical gun cannot heal or reform itself on it's own. Syn can build an entirely new gun for the spirit, or create something from the mangled pieces of the original weapon.

_Can Mihnea change anyone into a ghoul or a vampire?_ - Nope. I think this is one instance where Syn's blood actually overpowers Alucard's. Mihnea can't infect anyone with his bite. Although I will say that if he were ever to bite a **vampire**, it would probably kill/seriously hurt them. :)

_Are we going to get to see Mihnea and Constance at home over the summer? - _Absolutely! I will say that the amount of important stuff happening at Hellsing over the summer will vary, but we will definitely get to see the kids at home.

_Can Alucard impregnate Syn?_ - No, he can't. Since vampires are undead - and therefore not alive - they can't breed with a living human being. Vampires have children through making fledglings. For the sake of continuity with _Blood Heritage_, I am going to say that Lorcan D'Eath from Harry Potter cannon was part vampire because his mother was transformed while she was pregnant with him. I don't believe there's any specific mention of exactly how he was part vampire in the books, so I'll go the _Blade_ route. To address the issue of virginity before it comes up - We know that Alucard can change someone into a vampire without them being a virgin. And we know he was capable of this before VanHelsing got his hands on him to do experiments - so it's possible that older, more powerful vampires develop the ability to get around the 'only virgins can be made into vampires' rule.

_In cannon it said that vampires are tolerated and not considered a true threat to the Wizarding Community, unlike the Werewolves. They are also classified as beings by the Ministry of Magic. I wonder if they are still true in here? - _I would like to point out that just because there are laws granting a certain group rights, that doesn't mean those laws are always followed. Vampires are still considered dark creatures in Harry Potter cannon. They are studied in DADA, there are several mentions in the Harry Potter books of aurors or 'good wizards' encountering and having to fight vampires. During the Quiddich World Cup, someone was showing off for the Veelas and bragging about being a vampire hunter. I think werewolves might be seen as being a bit more dangerous because they have little control over their transformation, but vampires still aren't seen in a very positive light. With as many books that have been written about them, and people claiming to be vampire hunters as a point of pride, I don't know if the Wizarding World doesn't see them as a true threat.

As always, if you have questions, feel free to ask! And I'm glad you guys are still enjoying the story. :D


	12. First Missions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

It was a couple of weeks after the children returned from Hogwarts that a report of a vampire attack came in. A young couple living in a small town about 30 miles outside of London had been found murdered. The police who responded treated it as a double homicide until the bodies of the two victims got up and commenced eating them. Most of the unit dispatched managed to escape unharmed, but there were four officers who'd been bitten and turned into ghouls. A simple enough mission. Six ghouls and one vampire they'd have to search out and kill. The second he heard about it, Mihnea asked if he could go. However he had no desire to let himself get put up on a roof to just wait for something to come by. The last mission he'd participated in felt like a tease. This time, he wanted to be on the ground where he could actually fight something.

"Mihnea, are you **sure **you're ready to do this?" his mother asked him seriously. "These ghouls will be armed. One small mistake and you could wind up getting shot."

"I want to go." the boy insisted. "I can do this."

They all were in the conference room upstairs discussing the matter. Aunt Integra and uncle Edmund thought it was a basic enough mission for Constance to be put in charge of handling it. However, the matter of Mihnea going or not wasn't up to her. That little issue would have to be taken care of first. Alucard looked like he fully approved of his son's request.

"He wants to fight, little goddess." he said, wearing one of his famous smirks. "Let's give him a chance to prove himself."

The redhead shot a look in the vampire's direction, then sighed. "Oh fine." she said, then glanced over at Integra and nodded. "If he wants to do this, I wont stop him."

Mihnea had to suppress the urge to fist pump. Finally, he was going to get to actually **do **something! The knight inclined her head at the decision and turned to her daughter.

"What's your strategy for this assignment?" she asked.

Connie pulled her lower lip between her teeth, looking thoughtful. "Well... with there being so few targets, I don't see why there should be more than one vampire in the field. So... Mihnea goes with Alucard and we send a small unit of soldiers to take care of clean up afterwards...?"

Aunt Integra quirked a brow and lit up one of her cigars. "I'm not the one in charge here, Constance. You are."

The girl blinked at her, then took a breath and squared her shoulders. "Right. Alucard and Mihnea will take care of dealing with the ghouls and hunting down the vampire. Lieutenant Stevens will take a unit to handle clean up operations." she said, repeating her previous idea in a more deliberate, commanding tone.

Short, sweet, and simple. This mission was going to be a piece of cake.

* * *

><p>"Nervous?" Seras asked him as he was pulling on the outer jacket of his uniform.<p>

Mihnea shook his head and started placing extra clips of ammunition for Venom in the pouches on his belt. "Not really. I'm excited."

The draculina rolled her eyes, as if she thought such a statement was stereotypical. "God, you're so much like Master you'll wind up having a party out there." she commented with a girlish smile, then ruffled his hair. "Just don't do anything stupid."

"Since when do I do anything stupid?" he asked. The boy paused when he caught sight of his sister's arched brow and raised a finger to stop her before she could open her mouth. "Don't answer that."

Seras made a face at him. "I'm serious, Mihnea. You do something out there that gets you shot, I **will** kick your ass when you get home."

He seriously doubted that. If he ever came home with a gunshot wound, she'd probably fawn over him with tears in her eyes as she tried to find a way to fix it. Mihnea slid the last of the ammunition clips into his belt and snapped the pocket closed.

"I'm bigger than you." he warned.

That made the draculina narrow her eyes in a mock show of warning. "Cocky much?"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying. You're **tiny **and... OW!"

Before he could finish, Seras pounced and knocked him face first onto the floor. She crawled up behind him and twisted his arm behind his back.

"Surrender." she said.

"Never!"

She twisted his arm back further – just enough to make it twinge in pain without actually doing any damage.

"Say it..." Seras prodded in a sweet sounding voice.

Mihnea shook his head violently. "No."

"Zee? Zhat right zhere iz why I never make 'er mad." Pip called out from where he was having a last minute discussion with Stevens.

Mihnea twisted his face so he could see the bemused expression the Captain was wearing. On his back, Seras' weight shifted.

"I'm not mad." she declared, then leaned down to speak to her brother directly. "I'm not getting off until you give up."

Jesus, she seriously wasn't going to let go of it, was she? Mihnea gave a half-hearted attempt at kicking her off. With the position she had him in, she wasn't going anywhere until she was good and damn ready and he knew it.

"Like hell." he shot back.

"Ooohh..." she hissed, sounding like she was getting irritated.

Seras decided to switch tactics. While keeping a firm grip on the arm she had pulled back, she reached forward and took hold of his ear to give it a good twist. Mihnea **hated** having his ears twisted. Not that it was the most painful thing one could experience, but it was annoying as hell. He immediately winced and turned his head in the same direction, trying to take a bit of the pressure off. But the draculina wouldn't allow it. She just kept on twisting until he finally broke and slapped at the ground.

"Okay, okay! I give!" he exclaimed.

He didn't have to look back at her to know she was smiling in victory. He could hear it in her voice. "That's what I thought." she said with a sniff, then let him go and climbed off his back.

Now that he was free, Mihnea fully intended to get revenge for the attack. While Seras had her back turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest in triumph, he met Pip's eyes and put a finger to his lips to tell him not to say anything. That captured Bernadette's full attention and he watched closely as Mihnea tiptoed up behind her, then jumped onto her back.

"Hey!" she shouted in surprise, stumbling at his sudden weight. "Damn it, Mihnea!"

Several of the soldiers stopped what they were doing to laugh at the sight. It had to look weird to them. A nearly six foot tall boy clinging onto the back of a short, blonde girl in a miniskirt and combat boots. Mihnea never would have attempted it if she were human. Seras would have seriously gotten hurt. However, her vampiric strength gave her the ability to take a lot more abuse than she would otherwise and it allowed for a lot of extremely interesting and funny looking sibling confrontations.

"Surrender!" he said, grinning as he repeated the same words she'd used on him.

Seras growled low in the back of her throat. If she'd put enough effort into it, it might have sounded scary. "I don't think so!"

When she reached back to grab at his hair, the only thing that kept him from falling off was his tight grip on her head. Their squabble basically wound up being an odd combination of a piggyback ride and hair pulling contest.

" 'ey!" Mihnea heard Bernadette call out. "Zhe's ticklish! Go for 'er armpits!"

_Oh really? What an excellent idea._ Mihnea thought, then dropped one hand from her hair and began tickling. The effect was instantaneous. Seras erupted in a series of howls and giggles that might have sounded like screams if you weren't aware of what he was doing to her.

"Oh God, stop!" she shouted between laughing fits. "Pip, I swear I'm going to kill you!"

"Now children." A dark, silky voice said from their left. "Behave yourselves."

Mihnea and Seras both went still and looked over. While they'd been caught up in their playful scuffle, neither of them had noticed Alucard come in. He was leaned comfortably back against the wall with an amused look on his face.

"We're just playing." Mihnea announced, then gave a good tug on Seras' hair.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, then turned and jogged backwards until he was knocked solidly against a wall. "Let go already!"

"As amusing as this is, I suggest you save that energy for the vermin." Mihnea's father commented as one of his dark brows slowly lifted. "Get off of her so we can leave."

_Oh, right. _The boy thought, his thoughts slipping back to the mission at hand. He had ghouls and a vampire to take care of, didn't he? He jumped off of Seras' back and swept back the mass of dark hair that had gone wild during the altercation. As he went to join Alucard at the truck that would be taking them to the scene, he turned around and walked backwards so he could look at who he was talking to.

"This isn't over." he told Seras, pointing a finger at her.

She responded by planting her hands on her hips. "Damn straight it's not." she replied. "You go play with the monsters then come back so I can finish whipping your sorry butt!"

"Like you could!"

A cold hand slid around the front of his neck and forcefully turned him back around. "Focus." Alucard told him firmly. "You can bicker with your sister later."

* * *

><p>Upon arriving at the scene of the reported attacks it was immediately clear that either someone couldn't count, or the vampire and his ghouls had been busy during the time it had taken them to get there. While Mihnea couldn't see any of the creatures anywhere, he could smell the stink of them everywhere. The scent was too strong to have been produced by just six ghouls. The village itself was one of those communities that had sprung up near an industrial area because of the jobs it provided. The stench of death was wafting over from a collection of warehouses away from the main populated area. That was reassuring. If they could keep them there, then they wouldn't have to worry about civilians being pulled into the middle. Using the the wooded area surrounding that side of the village for cover, Mihnea and Alucard tracked the scent directly to it's source. As they grew closer, the expression on the master vampire's face shifted.<p>

"This may be more interesting than we thought." he commented, his head cocked slightly to the side. "What do you sense?"

Mihnea hadn't noticed anything unusual other than the presence of more ghouls than they expected, but if his father sensed something, it had to be there. He stopped walking and focused all his attention on searching out his surroundings. Underneath the scent of ghouls, a power signature pulsed. His eyes widened a hair.

"There are two of them..." he whispered.

Alucard was right. Two vampires was definitely going to make things more interesting. The new variable meant there was more to think about before acting. Using the earpiece he wore as a means of communicating with the soldiers and the manor, he radioed back the information. There was a short pause before Connie's voice came over the channel.

"Damn." she swore, and Mihnea picked up the sound of uncle Edmund saying something about her needing to watch her language. "Alright, proceed as planned but keep an eye out. Don't let them move into the populated areas."

Though the girl couldn't see it, Mihnea inclined his head. "Understood."

The two of them moved quietly, not allowing any of the creatures to pick up on their presence. When they finally reached the warehouses themselves, Mihnea caught sight of the ghouls. There were at least twelve of them. Possibly more if any were hiding inside the buildings. The boy pulled his gun from the holster strapped to his leg and removed the safety. Twelve ghouls, and twelve rounds in his magazine. One shot for each. If there were more, he'd have to reload quickly, but he was fast enough that it wouldn't be a serious problem...

"Go on." Alucard prodded, gesturing for him to advance.

Mihnea paused and looked at him. The master vampire looked like he had no intention of following him out. "Alone?" he asked, making sure he understood what his father was implying.

"You wanted this fight." the vampire reminded him. "Go take what is yours."

_Wow._ He was actually going to send him out to take out the ghouls on his own. Of course, Alucard was right there, so he could jump in at any time if he had to, but fighting alone... The flutter of excitement Mihnea had first felt upon hearing about the mission grew stronger.

"Yes, sir." he said with a nod.

The anticipation of what he was about to do flooded through the boy's senses. He'd heard some of the Geese tell stories about their first experiences with battle. Some said their thoughts went blank, while others' had raced so fast it was difficult to hold on to any of them. He'd heard tales of going numb and freezing at a pivotal moment and snapping out of the daze at the last second. But this wasn't like any of that. As he moved, keeping his gun poised and ready to fire, he felt... honed. Like thought that flitted through his mind or unconscious action he took was in preparation. Nothing was confusing or overwhelming. In fact, Mihnea could almost say he had become a machine. Something with a specific purpose that wouldn't be moved or distracted until it's work was completed. Maybe, if the situation were different, he would have thought it strange or disturbing. But at the moment, it was a useful quality, so he allowed himself to take advantage of it.

The police officers who held firearms were positioned behind three others. They weren't aware of him yet, but the moment he began shooting, they would return fire. Mihnea quickly ducked behind a building to conceal himself as one of the monsters turned his way. When there were no howls or groans, he figured he'd gone unnoticed. He carefully peered around the corner. The entire group of them were aimlessly lumbering around like mindless automatons with no direction. If that one on the left would move just a bit... There it was. He had a clear shot at all four of the police ghouls. Mihnea jumped out from his hiding place and took each of them out, eliminating the most dangerous threats first.

Since he hadn't bothered to bring his silencer for this assignment, the shots boomed through the air. The other ghouls seemed to freeze, almost as if confused about where the sound had come from and why their companions were now mounds of dust on the ground. But then they groaned and turned in his direction. These creatures weren't armed and had no means of defense aside from their limbs. Easy targets. Mihnea picked off the ones closest to him before they got within arms reached, then turned his attention towards the ones at the back. All in all, every last one of them was exterminated within a few moments. That was it? Honestly, killing these things was so damn easy it was disappointing. Mihnea expected something more exciting than this... However, there were still two vampires out there, so maybe the night wouldn't be a complete waste of time. He popped the clip out of his gun and moved to pull out a fresh one.

Before he had a chance to reload, something heavy dropped on top of him from above and knocked him flat on the ground. Venom went skidding across the ground, landing far beyond his reach.

"I was planning on **using** those!" an angry and slimy sounding male voice exclaimed.

A clawed hand went around his throat and Mihnea reacted instantly. He jerked it away, feeling his own claws and fangs come out. Sliding an elbow behind his back, he snarled and forced the vampire off of him. Scuttling backwards to get enough room to push back up to his feet, the boy got a good look at his attacker. The vampire had dirty blonde hair and was stockily built – shorter than him by a good four inches. As he crouched low in preparation to leap at him, the monster began a sneer, then faltered.

"You're just a kid." he said, managing to sound confused and taunting at the same time. "Of all the things in the world, Hellsing sends a little boy like you?"

_Little boy?_ Mihnea thought, feeling a wave of irritation and anger run through him. _**Little**__ boy? _The annoying little snot wad was going to stand there and call **him** little? No fucking way. He jumped forward and landed a solid punch to his face. Again, there was a momentary reaction of shock, then he recognized that Mihnea could pose an actual threat. They fought viciously until they both hit the ground, then rolled, slashing and clawing at each other as they both fought to get the upper hand. The boy occasionally found himself pinned down, but was able to move quickly enough to maneuver out of it. Where the bloody hell was his gun? He managed to push himself up to his knees and clawed viciously at the vampire's face. Mihnea shoved him backwards and took advantage of the small opening to search the ground. There it was. Only a few feet away. But as he moved to run toward it, a hand encircled his ankle and jerked his foot out from under him.

"Think you can fight me, you little brat!" the vampire shouted in a pissed off tone, then surged forward and sank his fangs into the flesh of his arm just below the elbow.

The pain of the bite made the air rush of out Mihnea's lungs. Jesus Christ, that burned like hell. The monster sank his fangs deeper and started a deep chewing motion, which made that first shock of pain transform into a blinding agony. The boy grit his teeth together and grabbed at his throat with his free hand, tightening his grip until he felt him choke.

"Wha... what..." the vampire sputtered, blood dripping from his lips.

Mihnea was fully prepared to sink in his claws and rip the bastards throat out, but went still. The edges of the vampire's mouth were turning black and the muscles under his fingers were trembling violently. It looked like he was about to have a seizure or something. What the hell could do tha...

_**Oh.**_ He thought. His mother's blood was poisonous to dark creatures. He'd never been bitten before, but now that he had, it seemed he'd inherited that trait from her. It was strangely appropriate. A half vampire with blood that could kill a fully fledged one. The creature in his grip struggled for freedom, but Mihnea held him fast, refusing to let go. This was something he wanted to watch. As the vampire's entire body fell prey to the convulsions, his eyes held a note of fear that hadn't been there before.

"What... are... you...?" he coughed.

Mihnea's eyes narrowed. "Something you shouldn't have been fucking with." he spat.

He kept a firm grip on his throat until the vampire went into a full seizure. At that point, it was too much trouble to hold on to him. He wasn't going anywhere and he'd be dead soon. He rocked back on his ankles and reached back to retrieve Venom. Seems he hadn't needed her after all. The boy slid the gun back into it's holster, then noticed his father walking toward him. Alucard peered at the mounds of ash laying everywhere, then fastened his eyes on the vampire laying at Mihnea's feet. One of his brows went up.

"What did you do to him?" he asked.

"He bit me." the boy replied with a shrug.

The No Life King's eyes shot up to him, then flickered in understanding. "Ah... what a delightful piece of information to stumble upon. You have your mother's blood."

On the ground, the vampire blinked around, looking like he was trying to find someone to save him from the torturous death he was going through. Mihnea watched as Alucard glanced down and nudged him with a booted foot.

"You could kill him easily now." he commented.

"He's already dead." Mihnea replied in a hard tone. "Why waste a bullet? Let the bastard suffer."

The enormous grin that spread across his father's face was beyond description. He looked so **proud**. Impressed with his son's attitude. Alucard didn't show that deep of a reaction to much, so when it happened, it was something to revel in. Twelve ghouls, one vampire, and a show of pride from his father. That was an excellent way for a mission to turn out. Mihnea found a slow grin spreading across his face as well, but it dropped when a feminine screech pierced through the air.

"**NO!** You bastards!"

The second vampire had finally come out out hiding, and she looked **pissed**. And this vampire, unlike her companion, had a very large gun.

* * *

><p>Back in the Command Room at Hellsing manor, Constance was listening carefully to reports sent in from the human soldiers. They weren't getting involved in the hunt itself, but they were still close enough to hear some of what was going on. Since Mihnea was doing the actual fighting, he didn't report in himself unless he had a spare moment. This was the only way she could know what was happening out there. Stevens told them that he heard twelve shots fired in quick succession – which meant that Mihnea had taken out several targets in one go. But since then, they hadn't heard anything back from the soldiers. Connie was starting to get concerned about it.<p>

"Should I call them and ask what's going on?" she questioned, glancing over at her mother.

Integra blew out a long trail of smoke. "Leave them be for now. If something important happens, they'll radio in."

The girl knew that, but she still didn't like this whole business of being left out of the loop. Not knowing what was happening as it happened was nerve wracking. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked at her aunt.

"Can't you talk to Alucard with that mental connection you guys have?"

The redhead made a face. "He's ignoring me." she replied, sounding irritated.

Well damn. All her options were pretty much cut off at the knees. Constance huffed and moved to drop down in one of the rolling chairs, but jumped back up at the sound of crackling static.

"Miss Hellsing, we've got some serious activity out here." Stevens' voice rang out.

_Serious activity? _"What's going on?" the girl asked.

"It sounds like there's a woman out there that isn't very happy." he replied. In the background, she could make out faint noises that sounded like gunshots. "We can hear her screaming from here. And I guess you can hear the res..."

His voice trailed off when an extremely loud boom sounded through the radio. It had to have come from somewhere close. It was loud enough to make Connie's ears ring. Syn sat up straighter in her chair.

"That was the Jackal." she said. "I'd recognize the sound of that gun anywhere."

Seras' mouth dropped open. "Master's not supposed to get involved unless things got out of hand!"

That was all Constance needed to hear. Without bothering to question Stevens further about what was going on around them, she pressed a button to connect to her cousin directly.

"Mihnea!" she exclaimed into her receiver. "What the devil is going on?"

There was a long moment where there was no response, then his voice finally come through the channel.

"Connie, I'm a little busy right now." he said.

The girl's eyes narrowed. She was through with this bullshit of not knowing things. "Tell me what's happening **right now**!" she demanded.

"I have a psychotic female vampire with a gun chasing me around and I'm trying not to get shot, that's what!" her cousin's voice fired back.

Apparently, he left the line open because she could hear the sounds of the battle. An angry female voice was shouting obscenities and howling like an insane person. There was something about hearing those sounds for herself that made everything seem more real. Mihnea was in **the middle** of that. Holy hell, she had to do something...

"Can't you just shoot her?" Constance exclaimed. Mihnea was an excellent shot. He could hit damn near anything he pointed a gun at. "And where's Alucard?"

"She's too damn fast. Dad hasn't been able to hit her either." Mihnea's voice replied. It sounded like he was running. "We're trying to keep her from getting too close to the houses."

This was serious. She not only had her cousin to worry about, but the vampire was advancing toward a populated area. Constance was not about to let any civilians die needlessly during her first time at the helm.

"Alright, hang on." she said into the radio, then rushed toward the table everyone else was sitting at.

Maps of the area had been pulled out so they could determine the best places for the men to remain stationed. She remembered seeing something on one of them that could be useful now.

"What are you doing?" her father asked, watching as she frantically flipped through the collection of maps.

"There's something here." she replied, not looking away from her search. "I saw something... Here it is!"

With the map she needed in hand, she ran back to the radio. "Mihnea, are you still there?"

"Yep. Just peachy." he replied, then a loud gunshot that had to have come from his weapon rang out.

Constance spread the map out in front of her the best she could. "Where exactly are you?"

"Hell, Connie, I don't know!"

"You don't know where you are!" she exclaimed.

"Excuse me for not consulting a compass while there are bullets flying at my head!" he shouted at her.

Constance wanted to kick herself. Of course he wouldn't know his exact location. She had a map right in front of her and he didn't. She took a deep breath to calm what few of her nerves she had left.

"Okay, try to pay attention." she told him. "If you're in the industrial area, then there are abandoned warehouses all over the place. Due west is a tall smokestack. Directly to the right of it is a warehouse that was used to store explosive materials. Get the vampire inside of it, then blow the damn thing up."

There was a long pause. "Okie dokie. I can do that." Mihnea said, then the connection dropped and she was left with silence. She could only hope he'd remember where the building she indicated was...

"Blow up a **warehouse** to kill a vampire, Connie?" Her father's said from behind her, sounding astonished.

She whirled around, half expecting to have to defend herself. "She wont stay still long enough to hit with a bullet and she's getting close to a populated area. This is the best way to kill her quickly with no one getting hurt, isn't it?"

Everyone blinked at her. Even her mother looked a bit taken aback.

"That's actually a brilliant idea." the knight said, taking the cigar from her mouth to give her daughter a smile of approval. "Not bad, Constance. Not bad at all."

Connie felt like she could float right up off the ground. Her mother, the Iron Maiden of Hellsing, thought her strategy for getting rid of the vampire was brilliant. Not good. **Brilliant**. Integral Hellsing didn't give compliments like that every day.

It was a good fifteen minutes before they heard anything back, but Stevens eventually radioed in to report that Mihnea had set off an explosion in the warehouse she'd told him about. Both he and Alucard were back at the truck. Normally, the soldiers would have to perform a full sweep to remove evidence of them having been there. Properly disposing of the ashen remains, clearing away debris... But since Constance had ordered the destruction of a building, the flames would take care of all of that. The local fire department would be sent to put it out and a story would be cooked up to feed to the press. Everyone had done their duty to the best of their ability and were free to come back home.

* * *

><p>When the truck carrying all the men finally got back to the manor and they all began filing out, Connie's eyes went wide. Mihnea looked like he'd been traipsing through a war zone. Just about every inch of skin that showed was smeared with dirt and soot. His uniform was covered in dirt and blood and there were long rips in it like he'd been clawed up by an animal. The sides of his face, neck, and the front of his chest that she could see were scratched up and bleeding. But despite his rough appearance, her cousin actually looked... happy. Proud of himself and what he'd been a part of.<p>

"I have never, **ever**, had that much fun in my entire life!" he declared exuberantly when he got over to them, his smile widening to a full grin. "I came **this** close to being shot six times! That was so **awesome**!"

He held up his fingers, pinching them together to shot just how close 'this' was, but Syn immediately fastened her gaze further down his arm.

"Is that your blood?" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm to get a better look at it. "What happened?"

She pushed up his sleeve and everyone clearly saw the deep, ragged bite mark on his forearm. It was still bleeding freely, though Mihnea didn't seem to paying much attention to it. He had too much of an adrenaline rush to care.

"The first vampire bit me." Mihnea told her, looking like he thought that was about as wonderful as everything else had been. "Mom, he started having seizures! Curled up on the ground and died without me having to do anything!"

The redhead's eye's widened as she took in his statement. As she was studying him, Alucard walked up behind Mihnea.

"He has poison in his blood just as you do, little goddess." he said, looking immensely proud. He put a hand on his son's shoulder with a wide grin. "Twelve ghouls, two vampires, and one beautifully fabricated explosion. I told you he could handle himself."

That was truly impressive. No wonder Mihnea looked so pleased with himself. Anyone would have been after doing that. But Constance was still fixated on his wounded arm.

"That's not..." she began. "I mean, that's not going to do anything, is it?"

"He already has vampiric blood running through his veins, so our bite would do nothing." Alucard said. "And the poison in his blood would likely kill anything that touches it."

Oh. Well, that was good to know. Connie supposed the only reason Mihnea could survive having blood that was poisonous to dark creatures while being half vampire himself was because Alucard was his father. The No Life King was the only one known to have an immunity to aunt Syn's toxic blood. Syn and Seras pulled Mihnea off to clean up his arm while Pip ran off to get bandages out a first aid kit. Connie watched them for a while, then turned back to her parents.

"When do I get to go out on a mission?" she asked. "I did well with leading, didn't I?"

Integra and Edmund exchanged a bemused look. "Yes you did, but being out on the field is different." her father said. "Your aim needs to be better."

Integra inclined her head. "A lot better." she amended. "Once you've shown improvement, we'll talk about it."

Connie made a face and crossed her arms over her chest. That was **so **unfair. Mihnea got to go off and have all the fun, while she was left behind in a room listening to broken up reports that just made her worry about what was going on. She made a mental note to work on her target shooting more often. The sooner she improved her aim, the sooner she could go out on one of these missions for herself.

* * *

><p>I apologize for no updates for a few days. I've been having technical difficulties. :( This chapter may be a little rougher than I would like, so if you notice any glaring mistakes, please feel free to point them out. I'm going to be busy this weekend, so I wont be able to put up a new chapter until Monday afternoon.<p>

Cheers!


	13. Letters

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The thing about being home for the summer was that Connie received and wrote a great number of letters so that she could keep track of all of her friends. It was a normal enough thing to do... at first.

_Connie, I had no idea how difficult it would be to readjust to 'normal' things after school. I'd gotten so used to being able to use spells for everything that it almost felt like I'd had an arm chopped off when I got home! But I suppose that's the sort of thing a person must get used to. How were your grades by the way? I got all O's of course, except for Potions. Snape gave me an E. An E, Connie! Oh goodness, I was so distraught when I saw it. The boys would probably say I'm just being silly about it, but it's so frustrating. _

_Anyway, do you have any plans for the summer? My parents and I may be going to Paris. I've always wanted to visit the museums there..._

_Oh, tea's ready so I've got to go. Write back soon! -_Hermione_._

_Honestly, Hermione, I don't think an E is that big of a deal. Certainly not worth crying over, anyway. Snape has me writing essays every week, and he took ten points away because I skipped a decimal place while working those figures on the potions in his logic puzzle. I didn't know teachers could take points away while school was out! Now my dad is making me take extra math lessons to make sure it doesn't happen again... ugh. It's awful. _

_You're going to love Paris. There's so much culture and history there. Mihnea's brother-in-law is French, so we've been several times. I don't believe we have anything exciting planned for this summer though. My parents are always working, so it can be hard to arrange things like that. Perhaps a dinner party or two I may have to attend, but that's about it. _

_I have a four foot scroll due tomorrow afternoon, so I really need to go work on it. Hoping you are well. -_Connie

_Bloody hell, Connie, ten points? Honestly, and you say you like the greasy git? I think you're about as mental as Hermione sometimes. _-Ron

_P.S. Please don't tell her I said that._

_Hey Connie! Heard about Snape making you write essays for him all summer. If you want to save some time, I think I've got a few of my old ones put back if you want to copy them. -_George

_Don't listen to Georgie. He only copies after me. But if you want to borrow my essays, you can have at them. Shame about the math too. But don't muggles have those calumater things? -_Fred

_Okay, boys? From now on, just send things back with Archimedes when he comes, alright? Your bloody owl nearly broke one of the windows in the living room by crashing into it. Are you sure he's okay? He flies around like he's been force-fed brandy or something. _

_Now to business: Ron, neither I nor Hermione are mental, and yes, I like Snape. He's an excellent teacher, even if he does find stupid reasons to take points away._

_Fr__ed and George, no I would not like to copy your old essays. I can do the work for myself, thank you. Though I do appreciate the offer._

_And it's called a 'calculator'. I'm not allowed to use them. -_Connie

_Errol force-fed brandy? What a smashing idea! _- F and G

_Copy their essays! The twins offered to let you copy their essays? Surely they're smart enough to realize Snape probably keeps records to make sure students don't do that._

_By the way, have you gotten anything from Harry? I've written no less than four times, and I've not heard back from him. I'm starting to get worried... _-Hermione

_I'm sure they were just trying to help. And I was wondering about Harry myself. You don't think he's off traveling with his family or something, do you? _-Connie

_Traveling with his aunt and uncle? Have you gone daft? They made him sleep in a cupboard under a staircase for years! Those people are the worst sort of muggles there's ever been. Four weeks with no word... They've probably chopped him up and cooked him in a stew by now! For all we know, they could be cannabis. _-Ron

_It's 'cannibals', Ron. Cannabis is something muggles smoke in pipes to get them high. _-Connie

_Is that what that stuff is for? Wicked!_ -F and G

_Oh, for the love of God! Please don't go out and try that awful stuff! It does nothing but make people stupid! _-Connie

_Where on earth did the twins hear about marijuana? And have you heard about this scheme they've cooked up now? Apparently, Mr Weasley has a car enchanted to fly and they're going to take it to Surrey to check on Harry. If they go through with it, I just hope they don't get caught. Can you imagine what would happen if people saw a car flying around with two teenaged boys in it? _-Hermione

_I was trying to explain the difference between 'cannibal' and 'cannabis'. Ron seems to be laboring under the impression that Harry's Aunt and Uncle have eaten him. Fred and George must have intercepted the letter._ -Connie

_Do what! He doesn't really believe that, does he? That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard! Good gracious, and now they're going to run off and cause God knows how much trouble because of some crazy, hair-brained idea..._ -Hermione

_Granger has her knickers in a twist over nothing. We went all the way to Surrey and back and never got caught. Mom didn't even know we'd left the house, and that's saying something. She has a funny way of finding out about everything. _

_Harry's got us worried though. Looks right awful, like he hasn't eaten in a week or two. Me and Fred saw the muggles putting bars on his window. We could have hexed them on the spot and gotten him out right there if it weren't for the damn trace. Do you happen to have any lock picks, by the way? Granger's too straight laced to have any and Fred says the poltergeist has hidden his. That's his way of saying he's lost them again. _- George

_I'll have you know I never lose anything. The poltergeist did take my lock picks. It moves everything around all the time._ - Fred

_Nope. He's lost them._ - George

_Guys! If owls keep showing up at my house every five minutes, I'm going to get in trouble! Now, I don't have any lock picks myself, but I know someone who does. Give me a minute, and I'll ask if you can borrow them. _-Connie

_Weasleys, I want it known that the only reason I'm letting you use these is because Constance asked me to. My uncle gave these to me when I was seven and if even **one** of them gets lost, I'll take it out of both of your hides._ - Mihnea

* * *

><p>"Honestly, Mihnea, do you have to be so mean about it?" Constance asked as he folded up the letter he just wrote.<p>

He shot her a look. "I **like** my lock picks."

That was all well and good, but a set of lock picks could be replaced. One of her friends was locked up like an animal and they had to do something to get him out. Mihnea put his lock picks into a small velvet bag and tied it to one of Archimedes' legs. He then passed off his letter to her.

"Alright, baby." she cooed to the bird. "I know I've been making you work a lot lately, but the second you get back home, I'll have a fresh mouse for you, okay?"

Archimedes' large yellow eyes blinked at her like he knew exactly what she was saying. He hopped from his perch onto her arm and took the letter into his beak. Connie pushed open her bedroom window.

"You should know where you're going by now." she told him. "Take these to Fred and George Weasley at the Burrow."

Her owl gave her a nod of understanding, then spread his wings and flew off into the afternoon sky. As they watched his small form disappear, Mihnea glanced down at her.

"Where do you intend to get a fresh mouse?" he asked.

Connie winced. "Um... I was kind of thinking Pixie could hunt one down?"

Her cousin rolled his eyes. "I think she's scared off all the mice and rats living around here." he told her. "She's more likely to catch a rabbit than a mouse."

The girl thought about that. Rabbits were cute and cuddly creatures, but Archimedes needed to eat. Being a large owl, a rabbit would be a feast for him. With as much flying about as she'd had him doing lately, he deserved that. She cleared her throat.

"Could you get her to catch one for me?" she asked. "Please?"

She knew full well she had already pushed her luck by asking him to let the twins borrow his precious lock picks. But having his cat hunt down a rabbit was a small thing... Mihnea looked up at the ceiling.

"Fine." he said with a deep sigh. "She likes killing things for fun anyway." He turned and crouched to pick Pixie up off the floor. "Do you want to go hunting, girl?"

The cat's golden eyes lit up like he'd said the most wonderful thing in the world. She let out a loud purr in response and began rubbing her head against his shoulder. Mihnea scratched between her ears, then pointed at Constance.

"Connie wants a rabbit for Archimedes." he told her. "Go find a big, fat, juicy one and maybe she'll let you have a couple of legs."

Pixie meowed, then scuttled down out of his arms to run from the room.

"And don't get blood everywhere!" he called after her. "Aunt Integra will skin me alive if you mess up her carpet!"

* * *

><p>"No, Sir Riley, there's no need to come up with an elaborate cover story." Integra said into the phone balanced on her shoulder. "Just tell the newspapers to report it was a gas explosion."<p>

Connie's plan for taking care of the vampire the other night hadn't gone unnoticed. The warehouse had been an abandoned building that wasn't actively used for anything anymore aside from being a place where teenagers could hang out and throw parties, but an explosion drew attention no matter where it was. Now one of the Round Table knights was calling in the middle of supper to complain about Hellsing making his job more difficult. The knight listened carefully to what was said by the man on the other end of the line.

"I realize that, Sir Riley, but gas leaks happen every day." she told him. "It's not beyond imagining that a line under the building broke and some randy teenager left behind a lit cigarette that caused it to ignite. Now, I have more important things to do with my time than come up with cover stories for you, sir. I believe that's the job to which **you **were assigned." she listened for another moment. "I'm pleased to see we understand each other. Good day, Sir Riley."

When the knight finally hung up the phone, Edmund looked over at her. "It's odd that they're getting upset about one warehouse explosion." he commented.

Integra just waved a hand. "With as quiet as things have been lately, I believe they're just looking for things to be angry about." she pulled her cigar tin out of her pocket. "Speaking of things being quiet lately..." she glanced at her daughter. "Where's your owl?"

Connie played with the pasta on her plate by absentmindedly twirling it around on her fork. "I don't know..."

"You don't **know**?" Her father asked, arching a brow.

No, she didn't know and she was starting to get concerned about it. She'd sent Archimedes to the Burrow yesterday afternoon and he still hadn't come back. It was unusual for him to stay gone for so long.

"He hasn't come back from the Burrow yet." she reported. "I sent him out there yesterday to deliver something..." she paused. "Maybe he's just waiting around to bring something back from the boys. I told them not to send things by Errol anymore since he always crashes into windows."

"I'm telling you, they lost my lock picks." Mihnea muttered. "They're probably making him stay there until they find them."

Aunt Syn blinked. "Lock picks?" she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Why do they have your lock picks?"

"Ask her." the boy said, pointing at Constance.

Her parents and her aunt all looked at her expectantly, and Connie sat back a bit in her chair.

"Um... Fred and George needed to borrow them... for a rescue mission."

Her mother took her cigar from her mouth. "A **rescue** mission?"

It was going to sound incredibly strange no matter how she put it, so Constance figured she might as well just come out and say everything.

"No one's heard anything from Harry all summer and we were worried about him." she told them. "So the twins took their dad's flying car out to Surrey to check on him and they said his aunt and uncle weren't feeding him and put bars on his window to keep him from getting out of the house. The poltergeist at the Burrow likes to steal things and hide them, so I sent Mihnea's lock picks so they could break Harry out." When everyone just kept staring at her, she went on. "We couldn't just sit back and let him stay there! Those are the worst sort of people you can think of!"

They were probably staring at her more for the mention of a flying car and a poltergeist than assisting in the rescue of one of her friends from his house. Her dad cleared his throat.

"I have to say, Connie, you've put together the **oddest** collection of boyfriends I've ever heard of."

Her eyes went wide. "They're not my boyfriends!" she exclaimed.

Edmund shot her a playful grin. "They're your friends and they're boys aren't they?"

Good grief, her father had the annoying ability to come up with the most embarrassing sounding things imaginable. She was about to say something in response, when she heard tapping on the window. Her owl was sitting on the ledge outside with his beak full of letters. She jumped up and ran over to let him in.

"Archimedes!" she said, happy to see him. She held out her arm to give him a perch. "Where on earth have you been? I've been worried sick!"

The bird gave her an apologetic look and dropped the letters into her free hand. She noticed he had a black velvet bag tied to his foot. Fred and George had returned Mihnea's lock picks. She went back to the dinner table, untied the bag, then tossed it to her cousin.

"I told you they'd give them back." she said.

Mihnea just sniffed and opened the bag to check that everything was there. Archimedes jumped up onto her shoulder, careful not to dig his talons in too deep, and she began ripping open the first letter.

"They're all here." the boy announced, then looked over at the stack of envelopes. "Well? Did Potter get eaten or not?"

"He's fine." she replied, reading. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said he could stay with them for the rest of the summer."

There was the letter from the Weasley boys detailing all the events of their 'mission' and another from Harry just to prove that he was alive and well. It said that the whole reason he'd been locked up was due to a house elf mysteriously showing up to demand that he not return to Hogwarts this year. When Harry refused, the creature, who said it's name was Dobby, had used its magic to dump a cake onto the head of some important person who was visiting his uncle. It looked like they all had sent something to Hermione as well so she would know. That was one crisis taken care of, she thought. As she was sticking the pieces of parchment back into their envelopes for safekeeping, Archimedes leaned down and bit at her fingers.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "No biting!"

Her owl pecked at her again, then gave her an expectant look. _Oh, right,_ she remembered. She promised him a meal when he got back.

"I'm really sorry, Archimedes, but I couldn't get you a mouse." she told him. The bird narrowed his eyes and actually looked upset for a moment until she went on. "But I think Pixie got a rabbit for you."

Archimedes blinked, then cooed, ruffling his feather like he approved of the change. Across the table, her mother shot her a look over of the top of her glasses.

"A rabbit?" she questioned, then glanced at Mihnea. "Pixie has been killing the **rabbits**?"

The boy shrank back a bit. "The gardeners always complain about them chewing up all the plants, so I didn't think anyone would care." he explained. "And I swear she doesn't drip blood anywhere."

The knight's eye narrowed further. "She brings them into the **house**?"

"Um..." he swallowed. "Yes?"

His mother whirled on him. "Where on earth do you keep them? They're too big for her to eat all at once."

"You'd be surprised." he told her. "And I usually put the leftovers in bags and stick them in the blood fridge in my room."

Aunt Syn studied him, then sat back and held her head in her hands. "Dear God in heaven, my son is keeping pieces of dead animals in his refrigerator..."

Connie's dad looked like he was about to start laughing. "Syn, you do realize that's the first sign of becoming a serial killer, right?"

Her head shot up. "Shut your fucking mouth, Edmund!"

It was a bit weird she were so concerned about the perception of keeping dead animals in a refrigerator when Mihnea had gone out not long ago and killed a whole group of ghouls and vampires... But that was aunt Syn for you. Mihnea looked back and forth between them.

"Hey! Mom keeps dried up pieces of **people **in her office, so what's the difference?" he questioned.

"That is **different!**" The redhead exclaimed. "That's..." she faltered. "That's... well... goddamn it, Mihnea, you're getting as bad as your father!"

The boy blinked. "I'm just saying..."

Aunt Syn pointed at the door. "Just go get the rabbit for the damn bird before it decides to start pecking someone's eyes out."

Neither of the children had to be told twice. With the way she was acting, they probably needed to get out of there before she started shooting at something.

"**God**." Constance said once they got out into the hallway. "Aunt Syn is in a temper today... did she and Alucard get in a fight or something?"

"I have no idea." Mihnea replied, glancing back at the doorway. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I think she just has PMS."

"I heard that young man!" Aunt Syn called out from the dining room.

Her cousin's eyes went wide. "Oh shit. Let's get out of here before she gets worse."

"And watch your fucking language!"

* * *

><p>A.N: I realize that the books say that the creature living in the Burrow's attic is a ghoul. However, seeing as how the Harry Potter and Hellsing universes are being combined, I figured that a ghoul wouldn't be a very pleasant thing to have inhabiting any part of the Weasley house. Therefore, the ghoul is now a poltergeist.<p>

And I imagine giving poor Errol some brandy might actually help him fly **better**. There's nothing in the world that could make him fly any worse, that's for sure.

Reviews are beautiful things! Yes, yes. :)


	14. The Summer Ball

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Mom, why do** I **have to go to this thing?" Mihnea asked, looking upset. "There's no point to it."

Syn put down the navy blue sandals she'd just pulled out of her closet and looked over at him. "Because Her Majesty invited you to attend and you never refuse an invitation from the Queen unless you have a damn good reason for it."

He made a face. "But it's **boring**. The only thing people do at these balls is stand around and talk for hours. And the knights all hate me."

She sincerely wished that weren't true, but the sad fact of the matter was that many of the younger members of the Round Table Conference didn't like her son. To them, Mihnea was a dangerous creature that Integra never should have allowed within the walls of her house. They were the sons or grandsons of the original knights and were still intimidated enough by Integra that they wouldn't say anything while he was around to hear. But you could always see the obvious dislike written all over their faces.

"Her Majesty likes you and that's all that matters." she told him. "I don't like it either, Mihnea, but we have to go. This is one of those situations where the only thing you can do is suck it up and deal with it."

It was plain from the look on his face that he didn't like it one bit. "You can't just tell them I'm sick or something?"

"Since when do you ever get sick?" she asked, then pointed toward the door. "Go get dressed."

Mihnea let out a huff of air, then turned on his heel to go back to his room. This sort of thing happened every time they had to attend a royal function. He didn't want to go and she'd have to give him a talking to before he'd go get ready for it. Syn couldn't blame him. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't want to go to a party full of of pretentious bastards either. Unfortunately, this was one of those political things they couldn't get around. Hellsing was expected to make an appearance and that meant everyone in the family had to come along.

Her Majesty's summer ball was held at the palace in one of the grand ballrooms. It was one of those social functions where all the members of high society congregated to intermingle with each other. Most of this 'intermingling' was, in fact, just a massive display to hide the political power struggles going on beneath the surface. Since the great war, Hellsing had much more power and influence than it had ever had before. Naturally, that meant that others were even more keen on finding some way of gaining any means of control over them. All attempts had failed thus far and most likely, they always would. But none of them would live forever, so the children had to be acclimated to the ways of politics to ensure they'd be able to handle things when the time came for them to step to the forefront.

The ballroom was filled when they arrived. The Queen hadn't made an appearance yet, but she would eventually come in. The woman was in her nineties and the palace doctors said she was as healthy as a horse and could possibly live for another twenty years. Syn believed it. Her Majesty was a kind woman, but had a core of pure steel. The vampires were winding their way through the crowd, providing some extra security for them. Not that anyone would dare to try anything at the palace, but it was best to be safe. Constance and Mihnea were keeping to themselves by the punchbowl. There were fewer adults over there, and it gave them a good view of what was going on in the rest of the room. Even when they didn't want to be involved in something, they always watched and paid attention to their surroundings. It was a good habit to have. She noticed Integra stand a bit straighter as someone approached them. It was Sir Robert Walsh, Commanding General of the Army, and President of the Round Table Conference. Syn liked him. He'd been through the war with them and understood things on a deeper level than most.

"Ah, Sir Hellsing." he greeted, taking her hand. "You've finally arrived." He reached over to shake Edmund's hand as well. "And Sir Stryker. Your presence was missed at our last conference meeting."

Ed inclined his head. "I apologize for that. I was in Switzerland studying new ammunition developments."

"Ah... always working on that, are you?" Walsh said with a grin. He turned to Syn. "Miss Newsom, it's a pleasure as always."

She took his hand and smiled. "It's nice to see you as well, sir."

He looked her over. "Speaking of weapons development, I don't suppose I could convince you to do some side work for the army?"

The redhead had to suppress her amusement. He'd been picking away at her for years to get her to do so weapons development for the regular human troops in the British military. While it was a great compliment to be asked, she didn't really have the time or the desire for it.

"I'm afraid my work at Hellsing keeps me too busy." she told him. "When I'm not making guns, I have to keep all the boys in line. You know how it is."

Walsh nodded. "Aye, miss, that I do. It's a damn shame though." he looked over at Integra. "You work this girl too hard, Sir Hellsing. You might at least share her with the rest of us."

The lady knight shook her head. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Sir Walsh." she said. "I know all too well how the military likes to steal people away. I can't risk losing my master gunsmith."

The older man sniffed. "As if she'd consider leaving. She's too wrapped up with those damn vampires of yours."

It was said teasingly and they all took it that way. Integra cleared her throat and began speaking with him about a particular issue Hellsing was having trouble with. Human authorities weren't responding to distress calls made by bleeders or donors and it was becoming extremely problematic.

With everyone knowing about the existence of vampires after the war, new systems for dealing with them had developed on their own. There were always a few people out there who had an attraction to the 'dark side', and two groups of humans had come out to provide 'services' for the newly revealed monsters. Bleeders were essentially 'blood prostitutes'. Humans who walked the streets and sold their blood to vampires for money or other arranged gifts. Sex wasn't usually a part of the agreement, but sometimes it happened. Syn had no idea who had first started calling them that, but the descriptive term stuck. Donors were much more selective about who they worked with. Those were humans who entered into a kind of business arrangement with a particular vampire, exchanging exclusive rights to their blood supply in return for protection. The vampires took advantage of these people because it was a way to get a fresh meal without winding up on Hellsing's hit list for killing someone. The only problem was that bleeders and donors weren't seen in a very good light by the rest of the populace. Since they consorted openly with monsters, people came to the conclusion that they had some kind of death wish. When they actually needed help, police units wouldn't respond to their calls. They thought it was just a waste of their time and resources. Donors had an easier time of things because the vampires who fed from them knew that their death meant the loss of a living blood supply. They generally protected them from the worst sorts of things. It was the bleeders that got the short end of the stick. No one looked out for them and no one particularly cared to. Even if Hellsing didn't fully approve of what these people were doing, they were still human beings and they deserved help when they needed it. Walsh hummed thoughtfully. He assured her the issue would be brought up at the next Round Table meeting, but he couldn't promise anything would come of it. The other knights didn't like talking about such things and Integra would have to fight them over it.

The older knight eventually headed off to greet others at the function, leaving them alone. A few men came over to attempt to drag Edmund away for a glass of brandy. One of those male bonding things that Syn had never understood. Her cousin politely turned down the offer.

"Why is it always Brandy?" the redhead asked. "That's the only thing the men drink at these parties – brandy and sherry."

"I don't understand it either." Integra replied, glancing at Edmund sideways. "I have a personal preference for scotch, myself."

He wrinkled his nose. "Scotch is awful. I prefer whiskey."

Syn couldn't say much to that. She didn't like any type of alcohol. Too many years spent working in a bar in her younger years had destroyed any desire to drink the stuff. To the left, she caught sight of a man approaching. Sir Anthony Bratton. He was one of the newest additions to the Round Table Conference and hadn't yet learned that the sun and moon didn't rise and set on his ass. He was young, about 24 or so, and was so damn arrogant about everything that it was extremely difficult for Syn to restrain herself from punching him in the face each and every time she saw him. He'd taken up the post of his grandfather eight months ago, and immediately became the center of several heated disputes. Most of the other knights didn't like him either.

"Bloody fucking hell, what does he want?" Ed muttered when he saw he was coming straight toward them.

Integra turned to peer in the direction he was looking and narrowed her eye. "Wonderful. A goddamned fight is just the thing we need right now."

The man came to a halt before them and swept his hand back over his perfectly combed hair. What a bloody show off. Strutting around like a damn peacock. He accentuated their negative impression of him by turning and holding out his hand to Syn first. It was a terrible show of disrespect to Integra and her husband. Since she wasn't a knight, the redhead should have been the last to be addressed..

"Miss Newsom." he said silkily, reaching down to take her hand. "It's such a **pleasure** to see you here."

She deftly pulled her hand back before he could touch her. She didn't want to catch any infectious diseases he might be carrying.

"Is there something of importance you need to say, Sir Bratton?" Integra questioned from the side. "Because if not, I highly suggest you go elsewhere."

Bratton arched a brow and lowered his hand, straightening. "This is a social event, Sir Integra. I thought it was only appropriate to come and speak to you for a moment." he squared his shoulders and smiled. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Walsh. Having trouble with the bleeders, are you?"

The lady knight narrowed her good eye. "For the time being, my conversation with **Sir** Walsh is none of your concern." she told him in an icy sounding voice. "The details will be brought up at our next meeting."

He waved a hand through the air. "I honestly don't see why this is worth bringing to the Round Table's attention. Those people are simply a waste of time." he glanced at the redhead. "But then, I suppose it's only natural you would take to defending them since you have one working for you."

"**Excuse** me?" Syn said in a threateningly low tone.

She caught a lot of flack for her strange relationship with Hellsing's master vampire, but Bratton went way over the line with that comment. She was going to kill him. Rip his entrails out and string him up from the ceiling by them. Alucard would approve. He might even help her out.

"Well, given your highly inappropriate relationships with vampires, one can only assume such a thing." the man commented as if it were nothing. He cocked his head to the side. "I noticed you brought your little half-breed hell spawn with you. I'm absolutely shocked you let him out of his cage for the evening."

_Oh __**hell **__no he didn't!_ The redhead was used to being on the receiving end of attacks and had long ago learned the value of restraint and keeping her mouth shut. But all of that turned off when someone starting talking about her son. Edmund had to grab her by the arm to keep her from attacking him.

"You are **out of line**, Anthony." Integra said, using his first name to show how angry she was. "That 'half-breed hell spawn' is my nephew, and I don't take kindly to insults directed at any member of my family."

Bratton sniffed. "I can't say there's very much of your family left." he told her. "Marrying a commoner and tying your name to monsters... You've created quite a mess of things, Integra."

Edmund stiffened and let go of Syn's arm, looking like he fully intended to help her kick the man's miserable ass.

"That's **Sir** Integra to you, you miserable piece of trash." he spat spat at him. "And I suggest you turn your happy ass around and leave before something bad happens to you."

"Oh really?" he said, looking amused. "And just what do you think is going to happen if I don't?"

"**Me.**"

A swirl of black shadows manifested directly behind him and twisted together into Alucard's intimidating and extremely pissed off looking form. Bratton whirled around at the sound of his voice and shrank back. Even as pompous as he was, he still knew better than to face down an angry vampire.

"Ah, Alucard." Integra said, her voice sounding almost bright. "It's so goodof you to join us. We were just having the most interesting conversation with Sir Bratton here." she glanced over at the much younger knight. "Would you care to share some of your opinions with my vampire?"

Bratton quickly looked back and forth between her and Alucard while the No Life King growled at him from low in his throat. He looked about ready to piss himself.

"I... have to go." he mumbled, then turned and briskly walked away. Not fast enough to be considered a run, but certainly much faster than normal.

Syn watched his back as he retreated, then sighed. "I **really** want to blow his brains out." she said. "Why can't we kill him again?"

Integra sighed. "Because he's the head of the Royal Air Force and he's damn good at his job." she replied, looking like she didn't like it much either. "We can only hope his overly large ego will find him in a fighter jet shot down over some hostile territory. Until such a thing happens, we're stuck with dealing with him, I'm afraid." she looked between Alucard and Edmund. "I'll trust you to keep that bastard away from my daughter. I need a cigar."

That sounded like an excellent idea, Syn thought. She could do with a hit of nicotine as well. It might be just the thing to calm her nerves.

"Do you mind if I come with you?" she asked.

"Not at all." the knight replied.

So they headed toward the door, Integra pulling out her cigars, while Syn retrieved her pack of clove cigarettes. She sincerely hoped this little party wouldn't go on much longer because she didn't know if she had enough of them to make it through the night.

* * *

><p>"Focus, Mihnea." Alucard instructed. "Search out his presence and you will feel him."<p>

Mihnea had been pleasantly surprised when his father searched him out for an impromptu lesson on using his powers. He was even more eager to go through with it when he learned the reason. One of the knights had been acting like a royal ass with his family. Pip and uncle Edmund were there too, adding their two cents on what should be done to 'teach the man a lesson in manners'.

The boy closed his eyes to block out the distractions of the room around him and focused. Anthony Bratton, he thought. He could sense he was somewhere in the palace, but couldn't place exactly where yet. He clamped down on the presence he felt, following it to his location. It was a... bathroom? And he wasn't alone in there either. There were two others with him. Women, he decided when he sensed them. And the three of them were...

"**Dad!**" he exclaimed. "You** knew** what was going on in there! That's disgusting!"

Sir Bratton was locked in a bathroom having a quickie threesome with two women from the ball. Just the idea of that man doing anything of the sort made Mihnea want to gag.

The master vampire just chuckled. "Keep your focus." he told him. "You remember your lessons in summoning shadows?"

The boy turned to look at him and nodded. Alucard inclined his head.

"You're going to twist those shadows into the shape of an animal." he told him, then explained the process.

It sounded like a matter of manipulating the shadows into a chosen form, then directing enough intent into it so it could act on it's own. Of course, that meant he'd have to focus on infusing the shadows with the behaviors of the animal form he chose. He gave it a shot by forming a shadow cat that looked just like Pixie on the floor in front of them. The summoned animal pranced and jumped around just like she did.

"Not bad." his father commented once he was successful. "But I doubt a cat is going to inspire much of a reaction. Search the man's mind and find out what he fears."

So Mihnea closed his eyes again and began to search. Entering someone's thoughts was a tricky thing. He often couldn't get anything clear – like specific words or images. Only feelings and vague memories. But he happened across a particular memory that would prove useful. He opened his eyes and switched the form of his shadows from a cat to a small cockroach.

"You're joking." Uncle Edmund said when he saw it. "The bastard's scared of cockroaches?" he paused a moment, his eyes taking on that mischievous glint that usually appeared when he offered assistance with something that was sure to make mom and aunt Integra mad. "Make it **bigger.**"

So he did. Mihnea gave the shadows more mass until it grew to a pretty large sized insect. Not abnormally huge, but perhaps a teensy bit bigger than a hissing cockroach. Pip examined the new shadow form carefully. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but was interrupted by a feminine voice

"Um... What are you doing?"

All four of them turned to see Seras standing there, looking like she wasn't sure whether to get involved, or move somewhere far, far away from them. Alucard narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I'm giving your brother a lesson." he said dismissively. "Go keep an eye on our young master."

The draculina could obviously sense they were up to no good. She opened her mouth. "Master..."

"I said **go**, Police Girl."

She immediately closed her mouth. When she turned on her heel to go find Connie, Mihnea could hear her muttering something about hoping they didn't blow the place up so she wouldn't get blamed for it. Once she was out of listening range, Pip leaned down to speak softly to him.

"You zhould zend een a whole army." he told him. "**Dozens** of zhem**.**"

That was a bit harder. He'd have to form several separate shapes and keep them distinct from each other. It took a few minutes, but he finally managed it. Standing in neat little rows were about 16 large hissing cockroaches.

"Now keep your thoughts fixed on where you wish them to go and send them off." his father told him.

The boy thought it would be strange or hard to send so many things to a place where he wouldn't be able to see them, but it really wasn't. He could simply give them a command. _Go to the bathroom down the hall, third door on the left. _And off they went like a garrison of little soldiers to perform their mission. These bugs he had created were faster than he expected. The loud screams rang out a lot sooner than he thought they would.

It was a sight that wouldn't soon be forgotten. Two young women came running out of the bathroom down the hall and into the ballroom, their dresses half hanging off of them while they tried to keep themselves covered as they ran. Then came Sir Bratton, running as best he could with his trousers around his ankles and his silk boxers with blue and pink polka dots out for God and everyone to see. He screamed like a five year old girl when he tripped and hit the floor. When he looked back and saw the massive cockroaches were still scuttling after him, he squealed again and started crawling across the marble floor. Once they got over the initial shock of what was happening, every soul in the room burst out laughing.

"**Excellent **work." Alucard proclaimed, clamping a hand down on his shoulder with a wide grin of pride.

Uncle Ed looked like he fully approved as well. "That will teach him who's common. I do believe Bratton will have a disciplinary hearing after this." he commented. "Isn't the brunette Sir Pentwood's fiance?"

Pip leaned forward to get a better look, then whistled. "I'd 'ate to be 'im right now. Messing wizh another bloke's bird getz people killed..."

When aunt Integra walked back into the room, closely followed by his mother, Mihnea half thought he'd get in trouble, or at least be lectured about it when they got home. But both of them were too amused by the whole thing to get mad. Integra had a hand over her mouth trying not to laugh, while Syn was holding her sides, looking like she was about to fall out in the floor. Not only had he embarrassed the junior member of the Round Table Conference in the middle of Her Majesty's ball, but he'd also dragged out his dirty little secret. The man was seducing young women and pulling them into doing highly inappropriate things in the Queen's own home.

Sir Anthony Bratton would **never** be able to live this down. It turned out to be a much better night than he had imagined.

* * *

><p>A.N: And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why it's extremely dangerous to allow any of the men working at Hellsing to be left alone with each other. You never know what the hell they're going to do, or who they're going to pull in the middle of it. :D We will be returning to school next chapter!<p>

So my town is going through a series of rolling blackouts right now. It's 103 degrees outside and the air conditioner cuts off every ten - twenty minutes. I'm going to put this up before my computer shuts down or I die of heatstroke. O_o

Reviews!


	15. Taking Bets

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The nine weeks of summer were over, and September first had come around once more. It was strange to think it had been a year since she'd first set out on the adventure that was school...

"**Try **to stay out of trouble this time." Connie's mother told both of them as they were preparing to leave the house. She gave Mihnea a serious look. "And you keep an eye on her."

"Mom!" Constance protested. She didn't need him to be her babysitter.

Their trunks were loaded up into the car, and Jackson drove them to King's Cross to catch the train back to Hogwarts.

"What's the deal with all the DADA books?" she asked during the drive. "They're all memoirs, not textbooks."

"I have no idea." Mihnea told her. "It looks like everyone had to get the same set. I saw Alicia Gladstone from Ravenclaw carrying around the whole stack of them too."

Constance didn't understand that at all. From what she heard, Gladstone was a sixth year student. Each year always had different books that came from working in higher level classes. For all of them to have the same set was... beyond comprehension.

They arrived at the station at precisely 10:30 am. Most of the early morning traffic of people heading to work was gone already. Jackson helped them pull all of their luggage out of the trunk, then wished them farewell.

"Behave yourselves." he told them. "And I expect I'll be back to pick you up for the holiday."

That was usually the way of it. They both assured him (with fingers crossed behind their backs) that they would be on their best behavior during the school year, then pushed their trollies through the portal. Once they were through, they separated to go to their respective parts of the train. She said hello to Seamus, Dean, and Neville as she passed them to look for a suitable sitting area to settle down in. She had just opened the doors leading to the last car in the Gryffindor section when she was attacked by a figure with bushy brown hair. It took a second to recognize who it was but the moment she saw it was Hermione, Connie returned the hug.

"Oh my goodness, it feels like it's been ages!" the girl exclaimed. "How was your summer?"

Constance allowed herself to be pulled into the compartment Hermione had taken over so they could talk. She couldn't give any specific details of course, but she just had to fill her in on what occurred during the summer ball at the palace. The girl thought it was both terrible and humorous at the same time – which was an odd combination to see on someone's face.

"Oh, have you seen who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is!" Hermione gushed when the subject turned to the upcoming school year. "We got Gildroy Lockhart! I've read all of his books. He's the most amazing man..."

Connie imagined that she had. Every last one of them was required for their class. But Hermione was acting like she had a crush on the guy or something. What on earth happened to the reasonable, logical minded girl she'd become friends with?

"I'd never heard of him before I got the book list." she admitted.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You haven't heard of Gildroy Lockhart! He's only the most famous authority on the dark arts there is! He's fought just about everything that's out there. Vampires, Werewolves, Banshees, and Yetis... "

Constance quirked a brow at her. "You fancy him, don't you?"

The girl stopped her never-ending rant about how wonderful their new professor was and her cheeks went pink.

"I do not fancy him!" she replied with a firm shake of her head. "I just respect him for all of his accomplishments, that's all."

Oh yes, she definitely fancied him. Hermione was in full schoolgirl crush mode. Connie had to see this man for herself. She just hoped Granger didn't faint from happiness when she saw him at school...

"Good morning ladies!"

Both girls gave a start and looked up to find Fred and George entering their compartment. Constance checked her wristwatch. It was 10:58. The train left the station at exactly 11:00 am.

"You're cutting it a bit close, aren't you?" she asked.

They both shrugged. "We were running late this morning." Fred reported.

George nodded. "New addition to the house and all."

"Ginny lost her hairbrush and threw a fit."

"Scabbers knocked Ron's toothbrush into the toilet."

The twins sat down in the seats opposite them. "The usual." they said together.

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Ginny?"

"Our baby sister." the boys replied.

"It's her first year." Fred explained. "She'll probably be placed with us. Everyone in our family winds up in Gryffindor."

They had a sister too? That brought Connie's mental tally of Weasley siblings up to six. _No, wait. Seven._ She corrected herself. The oldest brother, who's name she couldn't remember at the moment, worked for Gringotts. Dear God, that was **a lot** of children for one family to have. Either their mother was extremely fertile, or their parents **really** liked each other. There was a slight shudder as the train started moving.

Hermione sat up a bit straighter. "Where's Ron and Harry?"

"Trying to find a place to sit, I expect." George said, leaning back to lounge more comfortably. "They were right behind us."

Well, with them showing up at the last minute, they'd probably have to fight their way through the crowded train cars to find something open. There were two more seats in their compartment, so surely they would show up to join them eventually.

As the train picked up speed and began it's journey in earnest, they got to hear all the gritty little details about Harry staying at the Weasley house for the remainder of the summer break. The twins made it sound like their sister had a raging crush on him, which was bound to have made things a bit awkward. Connie got to tell her story about seeing a man with trousers around his ankles being chased by an army of cockroaches again. Fred and George thought it was hilarious. She imagined they were mentally taking notes so they could pull something similar on someone else.

After a couple of hours went by, Hermione started getting worried. Harry and Ron still hadn't shown up and she was thinking about going out to search the other compartments for them. Constance would have gone with her to look if she hadn't noticed something out the window. A bright blue car flying through the sky above and to the right side of the train. It looked like it was following them. There was only one flying car she'd ever heard about.

"Um... guys?" she began, staring out the window. "Your parents' car doesn't happen to be a blue Ford, does it?"

They both blinked in surprise, then pressed their faces to the window to see what she was looking at. "No way!" they exclaimed in unison. "They missed the train and stole the car!"

"**What!**" Hermione shouted, rushing back in to look out at the sky herself. "Oh no..."

Constance couldn't tell who was driving, but they weren't very good it. The flying vehicle was whipping around in every direction, trying to stay on course. She wondered how they were going to land it back on the ground without crashing.

"Five Galleons says they get caught and kicked out." Fred challenged his brother.

George looked away from the window. "Ten says they don't." he fired back. "Potter's just lucky enough that they might not get caught."

Hermione stared at them in disbelief. "You're not actually taking** bets** on something this serious, are you?"

It was a serious business indeed, Constance thought. Flying a car through the air was bound to get them in trouble if someone who didn't use magic saw it. But she had a sneaking suspicion the boys weren't going to get thrown out for it.

"Twenty Galleons says they get caught and only get detentions." she said after a moment's thought.

Hermione whirled around and gaped. "Not you too!"

But Fred and George looked absolutely delighted she was going to take part in their little gambling session.

"I'll take that." George said.

"Me too." Fred agreed, then looked down his nose at her. "Be prepared to pay up, Stryker. Twenty each if you lose."

She arched a brow. They probably figured she could hand over that much because her family had money. It didn't really matter to her anyway. She sincerely hoped Harry and Ron didn't get expelled, but on the small chance they did, she could handle twenty each. She prayed her gut feeling would prove correct.

"Deal."

* * *

><p>They lost sight of the car once the sun started going down. With it being dark, it was going to be tricky for the boys to pick out a safe place to land. The train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade and Constance wondered what mode of transportation they would use to get to the castle. Only the first years used the enchanted boats. Fred and George knew where they were going, so the girls followed them to a collection of open horse drawn carriages. Her eyes went wide when she saw the animals harnessed to them.<p>

_Thestrals._ She thought. She'd seen them in the Dark Forest every time she'd gone out there with her cousin. Black winged horses with their skin stretched tight over their skeletal looking bodies. Despite their frightening appearance, they were really gentle and friendly creatures. However, they could only be seen by those who had witnessed death firsthand, so they had negative connotations attached to them that weren't really deserved. The magical world thought they were dark, evil creatures because of how they looked and the fact that their diet consisted of blood and raw meat. But Dumbledore was the sort of man who could see past such things, and it looked like he had domesticated a whole herd of them.

"Oh, how charming!" Hermione said as they climbed into one of the carts. "They're spelled to pull themselves."

Constance figured it wasn't unusual that the girl couldn't see them. All the other students around them didn't seem to notice the animals either. She figured it was probably best she didn't say anything. There was no point in making anyone nervous.

It was a pleasant ride to the castle and once they arrived, they were immediately herded into the Great Hall for the start of term feast. All the older students had to be seated before McGonagall would bring the first years in to be sorted. When their head of house marched the lot of them down the center aisle, Connie took in how how nervous all of them looked. Had she looked that way when she'd been sorted? Watching the sorting hat do it's job from a different prospective was an interesting experience. It was about halfway through when Argus Filch, the castle's caretaker, quietly stepped through a side door near the teacher's table and whispered something into Snape's ear. The man listened intently, then rose from his seat to follow him out. Fred leaned over to whisper.

"Ron and Harry must have gotten here then." he said quietly. "If Snape's involved, they're **definitely** getting booted out."

Constance gave him a sharp look, then turned back to the sorting. The twins assessment of their sister was correct. Ginny Weasley was indeed placed in Gryffindor and once the hat was taken off of her head, she walked over to their table to sit down. She was easily recognizable by the ginger hair and freckles. She found a seat near them and immediately began looking around.

"Where's Harry?" she asked.

Connie thought it was interesting she was more worried about Harry than her own brother. She must really have a thing for him. The twins exchanged a mischievous look and commenced telling a grand, highly exaggerated story of how they'd stolen their mom and dad's car and were being hexed into oblivion by Snape at that very moment. The poor girl was so horrified, she looked like she was going to be sick.

Once all the first years were sorted into their houses, Dumbledore got up to give his usual start of term speech. When Gildroy Lockhart was introduced as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a man in fine, robin's egg blue dress robes and wavy blonde hair rose from a seat next to Flitwick. He gave them all a wide smile and dramatic bow. Most of the female students let out a dreamy sounding sigh as he sat back down. Hermione cradled her face in her hands, resting her elbows on the table like she was completely smitten.

"He looks so much better in person than in his pictures..." she said with a sigh.

If there had been a book around, Connie might have smacked her with it to knock some sense back into her. The man wasn't **that** good looking. She opened her mouth to tell her how silly she was, but was interrupted by the sight of McGonagall leading a downcast looking Harry and Ron in by a side door. She pointed to the Gryffindor table and said something to make them step back slightly and hang their heads. They must have endured a severe talking to, but they were still brought to the feast. The twins and Ginny parted to make space for them to sit down.

"What happened?" Hermione asked them.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then told them the entire tale of the portal at King's Cross sealing up before they could get through, taking the car to follow the train to school, then crashing into the Whomping Willow – which then proceeded to beat the car to smithereens. Apparently, the Weasley's car had a mind of it's own because it was so upset at the boys it tossed all of their belongings out of its trunk and drove itself off into the Forbidden Forest. It sounded like they were lucky to be alive. The Whomping Willow was a truly vicious tree. Constance leaned forward.

"So what happened with Snape?" she asked. "Filch came in and got him during the sorting."

"He tried to have us expelled!" Ron said, upset. "Said we'd been seen by seven muggles and he would put us on the train home if he had his way. But Dumbledore came in and stopped him. McGonagall said we could stay, but we've got detentions for the rest of the term." he suddenly looked nervous. "She said she was going to write home about it. Mom is going to kill me!"

So they'd gotten caught, but didn't get expelled. Constance felt an immense rush of satisfaction at the knowledge her gut feeling had been right. She thrust her hand out toward the twins.

"I win." she said with a grin. "I believe that's twenty each."

"Wait a minute!" Harry exclaimed, looking at them in shock. "You took bets on whether we would get expelled or not!"

Constance looked over at him. "Fred was the one who said you'd get expelled." she reported. "I just said you'd get caught and would only get detention." She turned back to the twins and wiggled her fingers expectantly. "Pay up."

It was a sweet moment. Fred and George's shoulders slumped and they dug around in their pockets for the money. This gambling thing was a lucrative business she thought. It was no wonder they indulged in it so often. She was forty Galleons richer and never had to lift a finger.


	16. Start of Term

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next day was the official start of term. During breakfast, everyone was double checking their schedules to figure out when their classes would be held.

"What are we starting out with?" Ron asked. Apparently, he'd lost his schedule during their escape from the Whomping Willow. Harry consulted his.

"Double Potions with Slytherin." he said, making a face. He glanced over at Connie. "What have you got?"

"Charms with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff." She replied. "I don't have Potions until third block."

It was a bit weird to be the only Gryffindor in a class, but after last year she was slowly becoming accustomed to it. Constance took a bite of cereal and glanced sideways at Hermione. She was writing a few last minute things in a notebook in preparation for class. But there was something in there that captured her attention. Every line that had something to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts was bracketed with bright pink stickers in the shape of hearts.

"What the devil is that?" she demanded.

Hermione looked up, perplexed. "It's the list of supplies I need to take to all our classes...?"

Connie shook her head. "No, what are **those**?"

She pointed at the stickers, and Hermione blushed. "I'm... just marking the most important sections so I'll remember them."

_Uh huh._ She thought. And they just all happened to be about Lockhart. She quirked a brow.

"And you're using hearts?" she questioned.

That captured Harry and Ron's attention. They both leaned over to get a look at what she was talking about.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, that's all Lockhart's class." Ron said. "You fancy him?"

"I most certainly do not." the girl replied with a sniff. "I simply admire him for all the amazing things he's done, and these stickers were the only ones I had available."

Without another word, she pushed her plate away and got up from the table. Either Ron had touched a nerve, or she was too embarrassed to stay there with them. The boys watched her go with similar expressions of bewilderment on their faces.

"She's worse than mom." Ron commented, leaning over to whisper. "She can't stop talking about the man either. Looked like she was going to faint when we bought our school books."

Jesus, what on earth was so amazing about the man to make every female in the magical world fall in love with him?

* * *

><p>Her first lesson in Charms turned out to be an interesting one. Professor Flitwick gave a brief lecture on the history and various uses of the flame-freezing charm. The spell was designed to make fire harmless, so that you could be completely surrounded by it and only feel like you were being tickled. Small pots were set on each desk, each containing a conjured fire. When Flitwick finished his lecture, he set them all to practicing. They had to perform the charm, then place their hand in the flames to test whether or not they had been successful. Connie personally thought that was a dangerous way to test a spell. She made sure to pass her fingers above the fire first, feeling how hot the flames were before actually sticking her hand in the middle of it. There were several other students who weren't so thoughtful. One Hufflepuff girl thrust her entire arm into her pot of fire, making the sleeve of her shirt burst into flame. Flitwick had to rush over to put out the fire, then examine the extent of her injures. She wound up having to go to the hospital wing for third degree burns. Most of the class was put off practicing that particular spell after the incident.<p>

Herbology was second block. Professor Sprout's lesson was all about the care of Mandrake plants. It was a bit disconcerting that they'd have to take the young plants and place them into bigger pots. However, their teacher assured them that they were too young for their cries to be fatal. As long as they wore earmuffs, they would be alright. The moment Sprout pulled the first Mandrake out to demonstrate the process, Neville's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the floor. Seamus nudged him with his foot, then declared he had fainted. Constance couldn't blame him. The roots were as ugly as sin and looked like the sort of thing you would see in a nightmare. When they all began potting their own plants, Draco had to go and be and idiot about it. He stuck his finger in the mouth of his Mandrake and threw a God awful fit when it bit him. Honestly, what did he expect it to do, sing his praises and kiss him?

When their foray into the new greenhouse was over, she and her friends had to part ways for a second time so she could go to her Potions class. Instructions were already written on the blackboard when she arrived. They were assigned a babbling potion, and once all the teams were finished brewing, they'd have to drink it to demonstrate it's effectiveness. With the way things usually went in class, it was going to take a miracle for someone to not kill themselves. She honestly didn't know if she'd be able to drink it after seeing what went into it. There were dung beetles, puffer fish stingers, dragon saliva... It was no wonder the potion made you babble like a crazy person. There was enough poison in it to make anyone's brain go loopy. When Snape started making his rounds through the classroom, Mihnea leaned over to whisper.

"Ten seconds till the twins loose you points."

Connie shot him a look. "What makes you so sure?"

"Snape's almost to their table." he replied, then started counting down. "Five, four, three..."

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley." the Potions Master announced. "You're to **slice** the beetles, not smash them."

Her cousin made a face. "Damn it!" he exclaimed as quietly as possible. "Off by two seconds."

She felt an odd mix of wanting to hit him and roll her eyes. Now he was guessing how long it took for Fred and George to make a mistake. She glanced toward the back of the room where they were working. George was the one who'd been using the flat part of his knife to squish the beetles to death. When Snape turned his back, he stuck his tongue out at him.

"Ten more points for not keeping your tongue in your mouth where it belongs." Snape said, not turning around. "And I'll see you both in detention."

Fred's mouth fell open. "But I didn't do anything!"

The professor finally whipped around to face them. "You seem to be particularly keen on losing points today." he said with a sneer. "Ten points for speaking out of turn."

Both boys continued to gape at him as he walked back to his desk. When they finally shook their heads and glanced over at her, Constance gave them both a death glare. She mouthed a quick 'shut up!' at them.

"Eyes on your own work, Miss Stryker, or you'll be joining them."

She immediately turned back around in her chair and closed her mouth. Snape gave her a stern look, then went back to doing his paperwork. It was the first time she'd ever been threatened with a detention, but at least he didn't take any points away from her. After her experience with that over the summer, she was determined to not let it happen again.

* * *

><p>"Forty points!" She exclaimed during lunch. She hit George in the back of the head with a notebook. "What the <strong>hell<strong> is wrong with you two? The first three times weren't enough for you?"

"Hey!" George complained, rubbing his head. "Why am I the one who gets hit?"

"Because you're the one who threw a dung bomb at Snape's desk!" she fired back. "Do you have some kind of weird fetish for getting in trouble?"

They both stared at her with blank expressions. "What's a fetish?"

Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice and quickly spit it back into her cup before it sprayed out her nose. Harry had to smack her on the back a couple of times while she fought back her coughing fit. Constance was surprised they didn't know what the word 'fetish' meant. Yet another thing the magical world didn't have. These people didn't seem to know very much about the world...

"Never mind." she said. "You don't want to know."

"No seriously!" they both said. "What's a fetish?"

She let out a deep sigh. That wasn't exactly the best conversation topic to talk about in the middle of lunch. Thankfully, everyone was distracted by an owl flying overhead. Mail always came first thing in the morning, so it was highly unusual to see one that time of day. It was painfully apparent who it was from when the bird overestimated it's landing and crashed right into the table. It was Errol, the Weasley's owl. Once all the laughter died down, it hopped upright and dropped a bright red envelope in front of Ron. The boy looked horrified, staring down at it like it was going to come to life and attack him. Seamus thought it was funny.

"Hey, look!" he called out. "Weasley's got himself a howler!"

Neville leaned over and gave him a nervous, yet sympathetic look. "You'd better open it." he advised. "I ignored one from my gran once and it was awful."

Connie had no idea what the significance of a howler was, but it sounded bad. Ron hesitantly opened the envelope, and she found out why everyone made such a big deal out of it. Before he could pull out the letter contained within, a loud, angry female voice poured out. It had to be his mother. It ranted at him about stealing the car, and said something about his father getting in trouble at work for it. The voice calmed long enough to tell Harry that they didn't blame him for the incident at all, and Ginny how proud they were of her making it into Gryffindor, then the letter ripped itself into pieces. Everyone stared silently at the shredded pile of paper scattered across Ron's plate.

"Um... wow." Constance said. "I'm sorry."

That was all she could find within her to say. Getting an angry letter from your parents was bad enough, but having to sit through it yelling at you where everyone could hear was just about the worst thing she could imagine. Harry examined Ron for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should go on to class." he suggested.

Ron nodded, but still looked a bit out of it. "Yeah..."

He was so shaken by his howler he was weak in the knees as they walked out of the Great Hall. Constance made a mental note to never tell her parents about the existence of those things. If they knew about howlers, she'd probably wind up getting one from them eventually.

* * *

><p>Maybe Harry's past comments about the DADA position being jinxed were true. First was Quirrel, the man with Voldemort in the back of his head, and now they had Gildroy Lockhart. The man was a complete <strong>imbecile<strong>. Constantly strutting about the school like he was God's gift to humanity. He seemed like the sort of person who was all looks and no brain. The mere idea of him actually doing the things he claimed to be responsible for in his books pushed the limits of believability. If he had done even half of those things, surely it had been accidental and he was greatly exaggerating the details.

Their very first class in Defense Against the Dark Arts had nothing to do with the subject at all. Professor Lockhart spent most of the block talking about himself. They learned about every single award and honor he'd ever received. According to him, his first experience with battling dark creatures occurred when he was three years old. A kappa had somehow snuck into his nursery to attack him for no reason whatsoever. _Probably to spare the rest of the world from what he would turn into when he grew up,_ the girl thought. Lockhart, as a toddler, woke up before the beast had the opportunity to do anything, and strangled it until it broke free to run away. The was no way in hell that had actually happened. A three year old wouldn't have the mental capacity to understand what a kappa was, much less have the physical strength to do what he claimed. Kappas were ordinarily found in Japan, so what was one doing in Britain anyway?

The first assignment he gave them for homework was to write a six foot long scroll about the various reasons why he'd won _Witch Weekly's_ 'Most Charming Smile Award' five years in a row. Connie was preparing herself in advance to fail the assignment. She had no idea what to write for it. For the first time, she left Hermione to work on the assignment herself, while she poured through options with the boys. Harry and Ron thought it was just as stupid as she did. But after a couple of hours of brainstorming, they came up with enough BS to fill half of the assigned scrolls length. The rest was taken up by carefully rewording everything they'd already written. Hopefully, the professor would think they were going on and on about how wonderful he was, rather than not doing the essay properly. When they turned them in next class, Constance noticed that Hermione's scroll was nearly eight feet in length. How on earth had she managed to do that? The girl had incredibly small handwriting, so for her to come up with an essay that long was the equivalent of writing a small book about him. The first part of class was spent reading over everyone's essays out loud, and him making comments about them.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger!" Lockhart praised upon reading it. "I see you've been paying close attention to all the details about myself. Five points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione blushed deeply and smiled with pride. Lockhart returned to flipping through the essays.

"Now, of course, it is understandable that the boys wouldn't take into account all the aspects of my physical appearance that would cause me to win such a prestigious award." he told the class. "But Miss Stryker! I am absolutely shocked that you failed to mention my extraordinarily white teeth and sparkling blue eyes!"

As she was mentally running through all the various ways she could hex his teeth to make them less 'desirable' looking, he finally finished with the writing assignments and began the class in earnest. That too, proved to be idiotic.

"Now then, I must warn you that the things you encounter in this classroom will shock you. You may find yourself facing your darkest fears here." Lockhart said as he swept around his desk with a dramatic wave of his cloak. He used his wand to tap what looked like a birdcage covered with fabric. "I must warn you not to scream. It may provoke them!"

With a flourish, he snapped the fabric off the cage to reveal what lay underneath. They were Pixies. **Pixies.** No one in their right mind would consider those things to be dark creatures. Incredibly annoying and bothersome, perhaps. Maybe even destructive when they were feeling particularly mischievous. But certainly not creatures worth wasting their time with in a class designed to teach them how to defend themselves against the dark arts. Then he did the craziest thing imaginable. He opened the door of the cage and let the whole mess of them loose. There had to have been at least forty pixies shoved into that tiny little space, so naturally, they were upset about it. And they took out their anger on the entire classroom. They pulled pictures off the walls and threw them around. Some pulled at the hair and clothes of the students. A group of five of them actually lifted Neville off the ground and hung him from the chandelier by the neck of his robe. In an astonishing display of ignorance, Lockhart attempted to put the pixies back into their cage by waving his wand around like it was a baton. Not surprisingly, the creatures stole it from him and utilized it for their own purposes.

Constance was too worried about the little devils ripping her hair out to think about using her wand. She grabbed the heaviest book she could find to beat them off of her. Harry was doing the same, giving a hard smack to a pixie that was pulling at Hermione's ears. At the front of the room, their professor was battling with the creatures in an attempt to save the pictures of himself they were tossing around. He managed to get one free from their little hands and ran out the door. The few students who hadn't run out of the room to save themselves from the chaos were left behind to deal with the mess on their own. Their number was made up of Hermione, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Connie herself. She didn't include Neville in her list because he was fighting not to choke to death while hanging from the ceiling. The five of them huddled into a circle, each facing outwards with their wands drawn. They managed to hit several of them with spells that made them drop helplessly to the floor. Then Constance heard an odd creaking sound and looked up.

The pixies who had stolen Lockhart's wand were using it to break the chains suspending the massive skeleton of a dragon. The few chains that remained untouched weren't strong enough to hold the weight of it on their own.

"Take cover!" she shouted, just as the last chain snapped.

They all flew in opposite directions, ducking under desks and holding their arms over their heads to protect themselves. The skeleton came crashing down and broke into pieces when it hit the floor. Good God, if that had hit someone...

Finally, either Hermione was fed up with what was happening, or something about the dragon nearly killing them caused her to remember a spell she'd read about somewhere. She threw out her wand hand and cast an immobilizing charm on the entire room. All the pixies immediately froze where they were and fell out of the air.

"Bloody hell..." Ron said, looking around at all the carnage the creatures had caused.

"Hey!" a voice called out, making all of them look up. Neville was still hanging from the chandelier. "Could one of you help me get down? I'm stuck."

Seamus performed the levitation spell that he claimed to have finally mastered. However, he apparently hadn't 'mastered' it enough, because when Neville was about six feet off the ground, the spell broke and he landed with a heavy thud.

"OW!"

Seamus winced. "Sorry, Neville."

As they gathered up what survived of their bags, Constance noticed one of Lockhart's photographs laying on the floor nearby. She looked to make sure that Hermione was heading out the door, then glanced back down and gave it a good stomp. The frame broke, and the glass covering the picture shattered. The boys all stared at her.

"What?" she questioned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "He'll never know it was me."

They all looked amongst each other, then back at her.

"You're **brilliant**." Ron said, looking like she had done the most amazing thing in the world. "Have I ever told you that?"

Constance smiled, then picked up one of the heavy books she had used to beat the pixies off with. Behind Lockhart's desk, there were several pictures of him that had survived.

"There's more." she said, pointing. "Target practice, anyone?"

That was probably the most enjoyable class they had ever had. They stood back and threw every sort of heavy object they could find. By the time they finally decided to walk out, every single photograph and painting of their cowardly professor was was decimated beyond recognition.

And since there were no adults around, no one ever found out it was them that had done it.


	17. Spiders Give Warning

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Target practice was one of the things that both Mihnea and Constance used to blow off steam. There was nothing better for anger management than to mentally tack the face of a person you despised onto a target, then shoot it to pieces. Skeet shooting was even better. With that, you could actually aim at something that moved, imagining it was someone running (or flying, in this case) away from you. Neither of them had any clays, but things like that could be improvised. With a student body filled with young people who were known for being a bit careless, it wasn't unusual for dishware to get broken or chipped. The house elves who worked in the kitchens would only use pristine plates and cups to serve their food. It was easy to obtain rejects from them. The servile creatures were always happy to be rid of it and if you were polite, the house elves would do just about anything you wanted, no matter how odd or out of place it might seem to others.

"Pull!" Constance called out.

Mihnea pulled a large dinner plate out of the box they'd brought along with them and tossed it high into the air. His cousin took aim with her pistol and fired. The plate exploded into pieces. She was getting a lot better about hitting things at a distance. Of course, they had come out into the Forbidden Forest right after classes, so there was plenty of light for her to see by. The moment the first piece of dinner ware was destroyed, she called out for another. This time, he selected a smaller sized ceramic bowl. Connie made a direct hit on that one too. He let out a low whistle.

"Nice shot." he commented, then glanced at her sideways. "What's got you in such a tizzy?"

The girl huffed and shoved her long, light brown hair back behind her ears. "My Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a lunatic and my best friend is madly in love with him." she spat. "What kind of idiot sets loose a massive herd of pissed off pixies, then runs away?"

"Oh... So you got the pixie lesson?" Mihnea questioned. "Malfoy complained about that for a week."

Constance whirled around to face him. "Draco wasn't even in the room! The little coward screamed and ran away the moment they were let out!"

He didn't doubt that for a second, but it was still highly amusing to hear the young Slytherin tell his side of the story. Malfoy apparently didn't realize that spinning tales of murderous, bloody thirsty pixies trying to kill him made him sound like a weasel afraid of his own shadow.

"At least it's interesting." he said as he fished another plate out of the box. "Even if the classes are terrible."

He threw it up and to the left to give her a more challenging target to aim for. She'd have to turn and locate it first. Constance hit it, but only with a glancing shot. Most of the plate survived.

"What does Lockhart have you doing?" she asked.

The boy gave her a look. "He brought in a crate of garden gnomes."

Connie paused in the middle of changing out the clip in her gun. "**Garden gnomes**? Those ceramic statues people put in their yards?"

"No, these things are ugly little buggers that burrow under the ground like moles. They like to pop up and chew on people's ankles." Mihnea paused. "I don't think he meant to let them out, but he tripped over the crate and broke it open."

Connie stared at him. "What happened?"

"Lockhart screamed like a little girl and jumped up on his desk like he'd seen a mouse." he replied.

It had been funny as hell too. The man had danced around on top of his desk, kicking at the creatures as if they were going to pull him down and eat him alive. The boy threw up a smaller cup and shot it down himself.

"We had to use candlesticks and books to beat them unconscious." he went on. "The Weasley twins had Quiddich practice after class, so I wound up taking one of their bats to knock the little bastards out the window. I'm pretty sure they landed in the Black Lake. The giant squid probably ate them."

The girl's eyes widened. "You broke a **window**?"

She was more worried about a window getting broken than the idea of gnomes being devoured by a huge creature living in the lake. Mihnea shrugged. "I fixed it." he told her.

Constance seemed satisfied with his response and went back to her shooting. She always acted like that with him. No matter how much trouble she got into with him or by herself, if he did something on his own, she just had to make sure he took care of it so he wouldn't get in trouble. And their parents told him to keep an eye on **her**. She usually thought it was her job to babysit him. Bossy and controlling to the end.

They shot at their collection of dishware until there was nothing left. Since a mess of shattered plates and bowls laying in the forest was bound to catch someone's attention, they used magic to summon the pieces back into the box. It was done with concentration and a wave of the hand. They hardly ever used their wands outside of class. Those were mostly for show to prevent raising suspicion. The two of them didn't need wands to make their magic work.

"I think that's everything..." Connie said, examining the forest floor to be sure. "Should we get up the dust too?"

"I wouldn't worry about it." Mihnea replied. "It'll get mixed in with the dirt and no one will notice."

There was barely enough dust to draw attention anyway. Any that could be seen would be stirred up by the animals that lived there. Speaking of animals... He paused, noticing something on his right.

"What the hell...?"

His cousin blinked at him in confusion, then looked down to see what he was staring at. The moment she saw it, she quickly stepped back to get out of the way. There were hundreds of spiders of various sizes marching through the forest in straight, neat lines. Arachnids didn't behave that way. They sometimes formed nests, but various species didn't interact like that.

"What on earth?" she questioned. "That's... not normal, is it?"

Mihnea shook his head, keeping an eye on them. When he reached out mentally to see if he could control them, he found that they resisted. The ones he focused on would stop and do what he commanded, but they weren't the least bit happy about it. The moment he let go, they fell back into line and scuttled away. There was definitely something weird going on.

"They're running away from something." he decided. There was no other explanation for it. The only reason an animal would resist manipulation was if their fear of something else outweighed the one controlling them.

It looked like they were marching away from various places around the castle. Since they were heading in that direction anyway, Constance and Mihnea decided to trace their path backwards. He thought it was best to get out of the forest as quickly as possible. If the small spiders were reacting to something, then the bigger ones would too. With the way the tiny ones resisted him, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to protect Connie from a bunch of colossal spiders. When they exited the forest, they found that the first trail was coming from Hagrid's hut. The groundskeeper was off trying to get rid of flesh eating slugs that had infested one of the greenhouses. Mihnea picked up the scent of blood. Animal blood that smelled like it had been sitting out for a while. He held out an arm to stop Connie before they got too close. He'd never been in or around Hagrid's hut, but his cousin had.

"You've been down here before. What kind of animals does he keep around his house?" he asked her.

She paused, thinking. "Um... there's no telling what sorts of things he keeps hidden in there. But I know he has a dog..."

It definitely wasn't a dog. He knew what that smelled like. Blood was a funny thing. Ordinary humans couldn't pick up on it, but every creature's blood had a different scent. The only thing was that if he'd never encountered it before, it was hard to tell exactly what it was. There was only a vague idea of what it could be. This smelled like...

"Does he keep any birds?"

She gave a start. "Yes!" she replied, as if just remembering that. "There are chicken coops." she paused again. "Why? Do you smell something?"

He took a couple of steps forward and paid closer attention. It was more than just blood. There was the subtle stink of death as well. Not rot or decay, but something freshly killed. Less than an hour or so. And whatever had done it smelled... weird. Like nothing he'd ever been around before. He had absolutely no clue what was was, and that was worrisome.

"Something's killed them." he told her.

She gasped. "Are you sure?"

He gave her a look. "Yes, Constance, I'm sure."

It seemed that sometimes she forgot that he could pick up on things she couldn't. Questions like that were just stupid. She returned his look with a sharp one of her own, then glanced back at the hut.

"Maybe it was a fox?" she offered. "There has to be some of them in the forest..."

"It wasn't a fox." he interrupted. "I have no idea what it was, but the smell is everywhere. It was... **big**."

That was weird too. It was difficult to imagine something large being able to sneak around and kill things without being caught. Maybe this mysterious creature was what the spiders were running away from.

The other trails of arachnids were coming from Hogwarts castle itself. They came out of windows and open places, crawling down the walls to get to the ground and escape to the forest. The closer they got, the more of them they saw.

"Should we be worried?" Constance whispered.

"I don't know." he replied, giving her an honest answer. There was a possibility that this thing was only going after animals. But after what happened last year, he didn't want to make any assumptions. "I say we wait it out and see what happens. If it keeps going on, then I'll start worrying."

That was about all they could do. Without knowing what the hell was going on, there was no way to take action. Mihnea decided to keep a closer eye on things to see if he noticed anything else that was out of place.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron's detentions for the rest of term were served separately. It seemed that McGonagall thought if they weren't together, they were less likely to get into things they shouldn't. This meant that every time the boys came back to the common room, they got into competitions of who's detention was worse.<p>

"McGonagall has me filing old test papers." Ron complained. "There's got to be a million of them!"

Constance and Hermione exchanged a look. "There's no way there's a million of them." Granger commented.

"You haven't seen the stacks!" the ginger headed boy went on. "They go back fifteen years! Do you know how many students have been through Hogwarts in fifteen years?"

Okay, maybe he had a point, Connie thought. There were thousands of students who had come and gone through the school in that amount of time, and several tests were taken in every class each year. That meant... wow. There was no possible way to get through that much material while working for an hour each night. He could work on it for years and not get it done.

Harry made a face. "At least you don't have to sit in a room with Lockhart all night. He has me answering his fan mail and signing pictures of him."

Ugh. That might just beat out Ron's detention for pure awfulness. From what the boy reported, Lockhart had a set of quills spelled to make everything written with them look like his handwriting. Harry usually wound up signing their professor's name on photographs of himself to be sent back with his responses. That was kind of pathetic. The man couldn't even be bothered to put his own signatures on things. Surprisingly, Hermione didn't make any comments in Lockhart's defense. After enduring several weeks of his classes, her adoration of him was shaken. She still stared and sighed when he walked past, but she would now admit that he wasn't as on top of things as he lead people to believe.

For as terrible as Ron made his detentions sound, McGonagall at least let him out on time. He always got down to the Great Hall for supper. Harry though, usually wound up staying in Lockhart's office for hours on end. The three of them normally had to set some food aside from the meal and take it up to the common room so he would have something to eat. When Harry didn't show up for supper that night, it wasn't terribly unusual.

"This is getting ridiculous." Connie commented as she moved her food around with her fork. "I mean, if he has to serve an hour every day, then hasn't he built up a surplus by now?"

"I don't think it works that way." Hermione replied. "But he should at least let him out to eat." she consulted her wristwatch. "He's been in detention for nearly four hours."

Constance had no idea how Harry managed. If it were her, she'd have shot herself in the head after four hours with that man.

"Do you think we should go get him?" she asked.

Ron paused, having just taken a bite of a dinner roll. "Break him out of detention?" he asked with his mouth full. "You really think we could get away with that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Lockhart is an idiot. If we went in there and said that one of the other teachers needed Harry for something, then maybe he'll realize what time it is and let him go."

Hermione turned toward her. "You know if he finds out we lied to him, we'll all get in trouble."

"Oh please. Since when does Lockhart ever check anything?" Constance asked.

It was the God's honest truth. The man never went back to check on the truthfulness of anything the students told him. As a matter of fact, several people had already found a way out of attending his class by telling him that another teacher needed them to 'do something important' for them. Lockhart was just stupid enough to take them at their word. The three of them finished up their meal, packed up the food they'd saved for Harry, then set off to rescue him.

It turned out that he had been released from detention just as they were coming to get him. They ran into him in one of the hallways. However, Harry didn't look at all relieved to be out. Rather, he looked... disturbed. Like he'd noticed something terrible that no one else did.

He shook his head when he saw them. "Do you hear that?"

The three of them immediately stopped and looked at each other. "Hear what?" Ron asked him.

"That **voice**." he told them. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall and started walking forward, his hand pressed to it like he were following something. "It's in the wall. I think it's going to kill someone!"

Constance thought that maybe being locked up in Lockhart's office for so long had finally made him go loopy. Hearing voices was never a good sign. Harry pushed past them and broke into a full run.

"Harry!" Hermione called out. "Harry, wait!"

But he made no move to stop or slow down. They all had to run to catch up with him. Finally, Harry skidded to a halt. It was so sudden, they almost ran right over him.

"Why is there water all over the floor?" he asked.

They all looked down. The floor of the hallway was flooded with water. Reflected on it's surface were red tinted words. When they glanced up to see what was casting the reflection, Ron stepped back, and Hermione gasped.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware._

"It's... it's written in blood..." Hermione whispered.

Connie's first thought was to wonder if it had something to do with the slaughtered chickens at Hagrid's hut. If anyone around the castle had been killed, everyone would know about it. But an animal... it was relatively easy to get blood from an animal without too many people noticing. Something attached to the wall caught her attention and she glanced sideways at it.

"Oh God." she said, then pulled at the arm of Harry's robe. "It's Mrs. Norris."

Filch's cat was strung up by the tail. It seriously looked like she was dead and suffering from a severe case of rigor mortis. They heard the sound of footsteps closing in on them. The rest of the student body was released from supper and were heading to their dormitories for the night. It looked bad for them to be the only ones there. But surely... surely Dumbledore would know that they hadn't done this.

Oh, it was awful. Once the students showed up and saw it, several of them freaked out. It was to be expected after seeing the shocking sight of blood smeared across a wall. Then the teachers showed up to see what was going on. They looked just as shocked as everyone else. Filch took one look at his cat and blamed Harry for it. Why he had to focus on just him, she didn't know. Dumbledore assured him that Mrs. Norris wasn't dead, but petrified, and could be brought back once the mandrakes were ready for harvesting. He then sent all of the students back to their dormitories, except for the four of them. They had to explain what they had been doing there and why they weren't at supper. Lockhart actually proved useful for once. He provided an alibi for Harry. Finally, they were allowed to return to their dormitory with the rest of the students. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked ahead, while Constance followed behind. As they rounded a corner, someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

She was fully prepared to knock someone's lights out and escape, but stopped herself when she saw who it was.

"Jesus, Mihnea!" she exclaimed. "You need to stop doing that! One of these days, I'm going to wind up hurting you by accident!"

"You couldn't seriously hurt me even if you wanted to." he replied. "You're too slow." he glanced back toward the hall where the blood message was, then gave her a look of absolute seriousness. "Do you remember what I said before about waiting this out?"

She nodded.

"Forget I said it. I think we should start worrying now."


	18. Secret Plans

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

After the whole mess of searching for the Philosopher's Stone, Constance figured it was probably in her best interests to write home about what was happening. It wouldn't be surprising if Mihnea did the same thing. For as much as her mother said she didn't want to know about certain things, the girl was certain she didn't truly mean it. She and her dad would want to know and she could use their advice anyway. She wrote out a letter detailing every odd thing that had happened so far, then sent it home with Archimedes. Her parent's response came back the next day.

_Be careful, Constance._ It said. _This warning sounds almost like a challenge. In this instance, your inquisitive nature could put you in harm's way. Do your research and try to figure out what this strange creature may be to better protect yourself, but __**do not**__ go out looking for it. There is a difference between defending yourself and going out looking for a fight. You are alone in this. If something were to happen, there would be no way for any of us to get to you in time. By all means, if something attacks you, kill the damn thing. But when you cannot identify who or what your enemy is, it is best to avoid it if at all possible. Keep your gun with you and be prepared to use it if you must._

_P.S. Mihnea has been given the same instructions, so there will be no convincing him to get involved in something you have no business getting into._

Constance folded up the message and returned it to the envelope. It was sensible advice. She didn't particularly appreciate the implication that she would drag her cousin into something dangerous, but her track record in the past probably worked against her. But the idea of researching... that was definitely doable.

When she brought it up to her friends, Hermione had already come up with a similar plan herself. Since the boys didn't like doing research – and weren't good at it to begin with – the task was assigned to them. The girls poured through every book in the library that looked like it could be useful. They couldn't find a single mention of this 'Chamber of Secrets' or any creatures that might be associated with it. It was incredibly frustrating. However, there was one other option they could use to get information. Going to a teacher and asking about it. Normally, Connie would think that doing such a thing would have a door shut in their face. But the entire student body had been frightened by the message written in blood, so if they were to ask while a large group was present, it would be more difficult for them to refuse to give an answer. That meant bringing the subject up in class.

Professor McGonagall was their head of house and they knew her best. She was a reasonable woman who had worked at Hogwarts for many years, so they figured she would be the most willing to share what she knew with them. Constance would have had no problem with asking the question herself, but Hermione offered to do it first.

"You're the quiet one. I always ask questions in class." she said. "They'd expect it from me."

It made sense, so Constance agreed to it. They all decided to put their plan into motion during the next Transfiguration class. The second years were primarily working with transforming animals into various objects. That day's lesson was centered around changing animals into water goblets. McGonagall gave a brief lecture on how it was done, then had Ron give a demonstration. His wand had been broken when he and Harry crashed the car, so he only managed to change his rat into a cup covered in fur and possessing a wiggling naked tail. It was the grossest looking thing she'd ever seen. The professor told him that it was time to replace his wand, then turned to walk back to her desk. That was their opening. Connie nudged Hermione in the side. The girl understood and put up her hand.

"Professor?" she said.

McGonagall turned around to address her. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her hand down. "I was wondering... if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?"

As they suspected, every student in the room immediately straightened to pay attention. Everyone else wanted to know about it as well. McGonagall looked around the room, then took a breath.

"Very well." she said. "I suppose you deserve to know after what you've seen."

She began her tale by explaining how the school began - created over a thousand years ago by the witches and wizards whom their houses were named for. After a while, it became apparent that Salazar Slytherin had a different view from the others of how things should be run. Believing that only students from entirely magical families should be allowed to learn magic, he built a secret chamber somewhere in the castle that could only be opened by his true heir. When this 'heir of Slytherin' opened the chamber, whatever was locked inside would be released to cleanse the school of all who were 'unworthy' of being there.

Constance cleared her throat. "You mean muggle-borns?"

McGonagall gestured to her with her wand. "Precisely." she confirmed. "Now, you must understand that all of this lies in the realm of legend. The school has been searched for this chamber many times, and nothing has ever been found. We believe that the message you saw was a particularly malicious prank. There is no evidence to suggest that the Chamber of Secrets actually exists."

That's what she said, but she still looked nervous. It wasn't an overt expression, but you could see it in her eyes if you looked closely enough. She was telling them that to appease their curiosity. Hermione raised her hand again.

"Professor, what exactly does legend say lies within the chamber?"

Their head of house looked over at her carefully. "Legend has it that the chamber houses a creature that only the heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be..." she hesitated for the briefest of moments. "The home of a monster."

* * *

><p>"A <strong>monster<strong>?" Connie questioned when they finally got out of class. "Could she have been any less specific? There are thousands of things that could be considered monsters."

"At least we know something about it now." Harry commented. "The chamber is tied to Slytherin, and whatever is in there will go after the muggle-borns first."

That was disturbing – especially to Hermione. In their little group, she was the only one who was muggle-born. She would be one of this 'monster's' targets.

"Well, if the chamber has been opened, who do you suppose the heir is?"

"Oh, lets see." Ron said sarcastically. "Who around here is in Slytherin and hates muggle-borns?"

"You mean Malfoy." Hermione said, looking upset by the mere idea. She hated Draco almost as much as he hated her.

"You've heard him going on about it in the hallways." Ron went on. " 'All the mudbloods are next'. He has to be the heir."

It would make sense if he was, but Draco wasn't the only one it could be. Constance looked over at him.

"Just about every pure-blooded wizard in Slytherin hates muggle-borns as much as Malfoy." she told him. "He's just the most vocal about it. The heir could be any one of them."

It was an intimidating thought. With as many Slytherins as there were, they would have a time trying to figure out which one of them it was. After a moment's deliberation, they decided that their best option was to focus on Malfoy until they knew he wasn't the heir, or found information that pointed to someone else.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, why are we hiding out in the library?"<p>

The girl glanced over at Ron. "This is the best place for us to talk without being heard by someone." she told him. "I have an idea for figuring out whether or not Draco is the heir."

Both boys sat up at attention. "What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione placed a book she'd found during her and Constance's foray into research on the table and opened it to a particular page. "There is something called the polyjuice potion." she explained. "It allows the drinker to change into the form of another for a certain length of time. We could use it to change into Slytherins and get into their dormitory. We'd be able to ask Draco himself if he's the one doing all of this."

"Bloody hell, that's brilliant!" Ron said. "How long will it take?"

"Well, it's going to be complicated." the girl admitted. "The potion itself is very complex and it takes a month to brew."

Harry stared at her, then leaned forward. "A **month?**" he asked. "Do you know how many muggle-borns could be killed in a month?"

"I know." she said. "But it's the best option we've got right now."

The boys looked at each other. It seemed that they were considering the idea. Finally, they came to some sort of silent agreement.

"Okay." Harry said. "But... why are we talking about this while Connie's not here? She's the best at potions. If we're going to make one to do this, shouldn't she be the one to brew it...?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm perfectly capable of brewing this potion myself. Connie is in the Great Hall eating supper." she paused and pulled her lower lip between her teeth. "I think... it would be best if she didn't know about this."

Ron looked shocked. Like what she had said was beyond understanding. "What? **Why**?"

The girl sniffed. "Think about it, Ron. Her cousin is a Slytherin. They're very close and she tells him everything. I'm not saying that Bassarab would go around warning all the Slytherins about us, but he could tell Snape about it. Do **you** want professor Snape finding out that we're trying to break into his house's dormitory to interrogate one of his favorite students?"

"Oh." the boys said in unison. They apparently hadn't thought of that. Harry cleared his throat. "Do you really think she'd do that?" he asked. "For something like this, surely she would keep her mouth shut..."

"It's too dangerous." she insisted, then leaned forward, as if to impress upon them the seriousness of what she was saying. "Look, all I know is that Bassarab is incredibly smart and he has ways of figuring things out. Connie swears up and down that she didn't tell him anything about us going after the stone, but he showed up in the hospital wing right after we got there. And he knew **everything. **I'm pretty sure he's the one who told the teachers what we were doing. There was no way they would have known we were up there without one of us coming back to tell them. Now, either Constance is lying about how much she tells him, or he sneaks around so well that he can listen in on conversations without getting caught. If she has the slightest suspicion of what we're doing, Bassarab** will** find out about it. We can't tell her anything."

It was strange to think of leaving her out of something this important. Especially when she was the most talented at what they would have to do to make their plan work. But Hermione had a strong point. They couldn't risk a Slytherin finding about about what they were doing. Harry glanced down at the book laying open on the table.

"You're sure you can brew it right?"

Hermione looked like she thought the question was offensive. "Absolutely. I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't know I could do it."

Well, that pretty much settled it then. Hermione would brew the potion that would allow them to sneak into the heart of Slytherin territory to learn what they could about who had opened the chamber.


	19. The Dueling Lesson

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next few weeks saw the first traces of the blood message's warning being played out.

During the first Quiddich game of the season, Harry got his arm broken by a rogue bludger. Someone had tampered with it to make it attack him. Amazingly, he was still able to catch the snitch in his condition. Once the game was over, all the Gryffindors ran onto the pitch to see if he was alright. Lockhart pushed through the crowds and took it upon himself to 'heal' his injury. But the man's idea of fixing Harry's arm was to completely remove the bone from it. The boy wound up having to stay in the hospital wing for two days while Madam Pomfrey gave him doses of a potion that would grow the bones back. Harry claimed the house elf who had first shown up at his house over the summer popped up again, revealing that he was the one who had cursed the bludger. It sounded like the creature was dead set on getting Harry to leave school, though it wouldn't tell him why.

It was during that time that the first attack on a student took place. Colin Creevy was a first year Gryffindor who was known for his annoying habit of taking pictures of everyone and everything. What he planned to do with all of them, no one knew. He seemed to be fascinated with the idea of developing the photographs in a certain potion that would make the images move. He was found petrified in one of the second floor hallways, his ever present camera still clasped in front of his face as if he were in the middle of capturing something on film. Harry saw Dumbledore and McGonagall bring him into the hospital wing. When he was finally released, he revealed something the others found shocking.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione asked. "Are you sure that's what Dumbledore said?"

Harry nodded. "I'm sure of it." he replied, then looked around the common room and lowered his voice. "They said if things get much worse, they'll have to close down the school."

_Oh my God,_ Constance thought. That would be terrible. This place was a home away from home. She couldn't imagine how things would be if it were shut down.

In the midst of all of this, she began noticing that the trio were spending less and less time with her. They didn't really treat her any differently, but they disappeared randomly and would stay gone for hours on end. When she found them again, they came up with conveniently constructed excuses that had obviously been made up. Connie imagined they were up to something to try to find out more about the Chamber, but she didn't know how she felt about being left out of it. For the time being, she decided the best thing to do was let sleeping dogs lie. If she thought about it, she couldn't really fault them for it. She kept plenty of secrets herself. She just hoped they weren't keeping something from her because they thought she would screw it up. The thought of that was... she couldn't even bear to think about it.

With the three of them off doing whatever the hell they were doing so much, she found herself spending a lot more time with Fred and George. They'd finally broken down and asked her to work with them on potions. It seemed that their long stent of detention with Snape had gotten through their heads that they needed to do better in class. Constance quickly discovered that there were subtle differences in their personalities that affected the way they worked. George was the calmer of the two. He would actually sit still and pay attention for long periods of time without making a fuss about it. Fred was more rambunctious. He paid attention and did the work, but after a while he'd get start getting bored. Both of them were **a lot** smarter than they let on, but when you put the two of them together they would inevitably distract each other – unless it was something they both had a vested interest in. Maybe if they'd split up more often in their classes, their grades would be better. She mentioned it to them, but both of them bristled at the thought. The twins were a pair. You couldn't separate one from the other. Not to mention they had a thing for confusing the hell out of people by switching up who answered to which name. They both thought it was freaky that Constance could always tell them apart.

"How do you **do **that?" Fred asked one afternoon as they were sitting around going over notes for class. "Even our mom can't tell us apart most of the time."

The girl shrugged. "You're not really identical." she replied.

They both blinked at her. "Say what?" George asked.

"You don't look the same." she told them, then reached out a finger to poke Fred's nose. "You have a freckle right here that George doesn't have." She glanced over at George himself. "And you have a small spot on the inside of your left ear that Fred doesn't have. That's how I know who is who."

"Huh." they both said. "You actually** notice** things like that?"

She gave them a look. "I'm very observant."

Fred looked thoughtful for a long moment. "You know, I think I could work with this. I've always said that I was the better looking of the two of us."

George's mouth dropped open. "You are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are **not**!"

Connie couldn't believe she was actually watching two boys argue over who looked better. It was kind of funny. After that, they pretty much stopped trying to confuse her all the time. Once she'd given her explanation, they realized the attempt was futile. They still acted like they thought it was a bit weird, but at least the issue was dropped.

So on it went for days, until all the students received a notice that they were required to attend some kind of dueling lesson. Constance thought it might be an interesting thing to learn how to do until she saw who the teacher was. Bloody **Lockhart**. He never gave up, did he?

He had taken over one of the long tables in the Great Hall so that everyone could see and hear what he had to show them. Connie had no interest in seeing anything other than him being hit with some kind of spell that would permanently shut his mouth. But once everyone was assembled and paying attention, Lockhart told them that Professor Snape had agreed to assist in giving a demonstration of how dueling was done. As soon as the Potions Master stepped up onto the table, she paid close attention. This was definitely something she wanted to witness. Mihnea was standing right behind her. He nudged her shoulder as the two men faced each other and drew their wands.

"Snape's going to hand his ass to him." he whispered.

Yes. Yes he was, and it would be a beautiful sight to see. When the duel began, Snape cast a spell before Lockhart could even open his mouth. The man was knocked backwards a good six feet and landed on the flat of his back. Connie had to suppress the urge to start clapping. God knows she'd get in trouble for it. If the teachers didn't get her, the female students would gang up to kick her ass.

That one hit was enough to make Lockhart decide it was best for the students to duel each other. None of them knew a thing about what they were supposed to do. They were simply separated into pairs and told to go at it. Of course, with the partners they were given, very few wound up using magic. Mihnea was paired with a Ravenclaw boy who was terrified of him. When he pulled out his wand, the boy squeaked in a panic and ran away. Hermione was assigned to Millicent Bulstrode, a stumpy looking Slytherin girl in their year. The two of them only fired off two spells at each other before falling to the floor in a violent hair pulling contest. Hermione seemed to be winning too. She managed to yank out a handful of the girl's hair. Constance had to face down a Slytherin as well. A boy named Blaise Zabini. He was one of Draco's friends and apparently a sharer in his opinions and beliefs. When she raised her wand, he sneered at her like he thought she was scum.

"Just what do you think you're going to do to me, muggle lover?" he spat.

_Oh, hell no he didn't! _Constance decided she didn't need magic to kick his sorry ass. She dropped her wand on the floor, then rared back her fist and punched him in the face. He hit the floor and rolled, clutching at his bloody nose. She'd hit him just right to break it. He got back up, furious she had actually dared to physically attack him. He raised his arm like he was going to hit her back, but she ducked and jerked her knee up into his crotch. That pretty much put an end to the fight. He cried like a baby and crawled backwards before she could figure out how to do something worse to him.

"You've lost control of your students." Snape said, giving Lockhart a look that spoke volumes of what he thought of him. "**Perhaps **you should put a stop to this before they all kill each other."

Lockhart suddenly looked nervous. "Uh... what an excellent suggestion, Professor Snape!" he peered around at the students surrounding the table. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley!"

Before either of the boys had a chance to move or speak, Snape's voice interrupted. "Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We'll be carting Potter off the hospital wing in a matchbox."

The professor actually had a good point. With the way Ron's wand was acting all weird now, there was no guarantee it would do what he wanted. But Connie couldn't for the life of her understand the replacement he had in mind. Snape dragged Draco up to duel Harry instead. For someone who suggested stopping all the students from dueling so they wouldn't kill each other, the Potions Master didn't seem too concerned with matching up bitter enemies. Snape pulled Draco to his end of the table to give him instructions. Lockhart did the same with Harry, but it was clear his weren't going to be very helpful.

"Alright Mr. Potter." he said. "Now, all you have to do is use your disarming spell with this wand motion." he demonstrated a wonky looking motion that nearly made him toss his wand across the room.

When Snape pushed Malfoy forward to begin the duel, the boy looked intent on doing as much damage as possible. Harry took half a step back.

"Uh... professor? How do you do that wand motion again?"

"Harry!" Constance hissed from the floor. "Just point it at him!"

He'd wind up getting himself hurt or worse if he did what Lockhart told him to do. The two boys shot spells at each other, both getting a good hit in. When Draco went flying down the table, Snape immediately grabbed him by the collar to jerk him up, then roughly pushed him forward. The blonde boy then cast a spell that sent a cobra soaring from the tip of his wand. Jesus Christ! This had turned into something much more serious than a simple duel. A cobra was poisonous enough to kill someone...

But Harry... Harry didn't look the least bit afraid of the snake. He stepped toward it and made this weird hissing noise. He sounded just like a bloody snake himself. The cobra turned it's head and focused on a Hufflepuff boy at the front. Connie didn't know his last name, but she'd heard others call him Justin. The snake wobbled, looking like it was about to strike. Harry just kept hissing at it until it lowered it's head.

Everyone was staring. Even Snape looked completely flabbergasted. While the snake was in a less lethal position, he pointed his wand at it and cast a spell to make it disintegrate into ash.

"What are you on about?" Justin demanded, then stepped back as if he were afraid. "Think you're funny, do you?"

Something really odd had just occurred, and Connie couldn't figure out why everyone was suddenly acting like Harry was the spawn of Satan.

* * *

><p>"You're a<strong> Parselmouth<strong>!" Ron demanded once they were back in their common room. "Why didn't you say anything!"

Poor Harry just looked confused. "A parsel-what?"

"You can talk to snakes!" Hermione exclaimed.

The boy blinked. "Well, yeah. I accidentally sicked one on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once, but that was the only time before now. If I hadn't told that snake to get away from Justin..."

"Is that what you were doing?" Ron asked.

"What, you couldn't hear what I was saying?" Harry asked, still bewildered.

"I heard you speaking parseltongue. No one could understand what you were saying. It looked like..." the ginger headed boy stopped.

Hermione looked at him, then cleared her throat. "It looked like you were egging the snake on or something."

Harry looked like he didn't know what to think. All of them knew he would never make a venomous snake attack someone, but the way it appeared was damning. He took a deep breath.

"I didn't know..." he began. "But... I mean, there has to be tons of wizards who talk to snakes. I'll bet loads of people here can do it."

Personally, Connie hadn't heard of anyone who could talk to snakes. At least not with a special language. Hermione and Ron looked... well... unnerved by the whole thing.

"Harry," Hermione said carefully. "Speaking parseltongue is a rare gift. It's..." she paused. "There's a **reason** why Slytherin's mascot is a snake. Salazar Slytherin was a parselmouth too. It's one of the things he was known for."

Crap on toast, so that's why everyone in the Great Hall looked terrified of Harry when he started hissing like a snake. The boy looked amongst them, taking in their expressions and discerning what they meant.

"There's no way." he said slowly. "The hat put me in Gryffindor. There's no way I'm the heir of Slytherin!"

The bushy headed girl gave him a serious look. "He lived more than a thousand years ago, Harry. For all we know, you could be."

* * *

><p>Harry brooded over it for days. All the students in the castle avoided him like the plague and shot dirty looks at his back when he walked past. It was terrible to see him go through it. He struggled with the idea that his rare talent marked him as possibly being the one that was sending a monster out to attack muggle-borns. Constance knew what it was like to be judged for something you couldn't help, so when she found a moment where he was alone, she went to go talk to him. The boy had holed up in a corner of the common room while everyone else was outside enjoying the weekend. She picked an armchair across from him and sat down.<p>

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

He was holding his head in his hands like he had a headache. She knew better than to think it was just that. He glanced at her through his fingers.

"Everyone thinks I'm a dark wizard now." he said. "That I'm evil because I can talk to snakes. Ron and Hermione act different around me now."

It was true, she thought. Though they knew he couldn't be responsible for the events that had taken place since the chamber was opened, they still struggled with the perception of what Harry being a parselmouth implied. People were being a lot snottier to them than usual just because they were his friends.

"They'll come around." she told him. "I think they were just shocked by it."

He snorted like he didn't believe that for a second. "Right. You probably think I'm evil now too."

She gave a start. She'd never done anything that would make someone think that.

"I do not think you're evil!" she said forcefully. "I think you're the same person you've always been. Being able to speak a certain language doesn't change who you are."

He finally raised his head to look at her straight on. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yes, I do." she replied. "Just because something is associated with evil things doesn't mean it's evil itself. Just that evil things use it more often. Have you ever considered that being a parselmouth could be a **good** thing? You were able to stop the snake from going after Justin. You wouldn't have been able to do that if you couldn't talk to it. And even if, on some off chance, you are related to Salazar Slytherin, what does it matter? You can't choose your relatives. One bad person in your family doesn't mean that everyone in it is bad." she paused half a moment. "Everyone is afraid because they want an explanation for what's happening. You happen to have a trait that Slytherin had, so it's easier to dump everything on you rather than use their brains to figure out who it really is. If people can't look past the parselmouth thing and see you for who you really are, then you shouldn't be worried about what they think anyway. Screw them."

Harry blinked at her, then gave her a small smile. It was half-hearted and it was obvious he still felt torn about the issue, but at least he could find it in himself to smile.

"Thank you." he said.

Constance nodded. "I'm not just saying things to make you feel better. I really mean it." she told him. "You're my friend. If something like this happened to me, I would hope you'd be able to return the gesture."

"I can't imagine something like this happening to you." he replied. "But if it ever does, yeah, I'd do the same."

God, he would be surprised if he knew half of the things she kept hidden from all of them. But it was nice to hear someone say that. She got up from her seat.

"Are you finished with your pity party yet?" she asked him. "It's a **weekend**. Get your cloak and come outside."

He moved to wave her off. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather stay here."

Connie planted her hands on her hips. This just wouldn't do. "Don't make me hurt you, Harry Potter. Did you hear what I did to Zabini? I have no problem doing it again if I have to."

Harry visibly winced. "Personally, I think I'd prefer if you just punched me. I don't think I could handle the rest."

Oh right. She'd given the snotty Slytherin boy a solid knee to the balls. She was surprised Harry had seen her do it. But then, Zabini was probably hobbling around like a penguin now, so it wouldn't be difficult to figure out how he wound up that way. She reached down and grabbed him by the arm to pull him up.

"Harry, get your lazy butt up, put on your cloak, and come outside with me." she ordered. "Ron and the twins challenged Hermione and I to a snowball fight and it wouldn't be right for two girls to take them down on our own. We need a third person with us to make them feel better about losing. Give us girls a little help, would you?"

That definitely got his attention. When he realized what she said, Harry grinned and let out a laugh. He looked like his old self again.

"Okay, okay." he told her. "I'm coming."

* * *

><p>A.N: I'm pretty sure Constance was taught the 'kneeing a guy in the balls' thing during one of her lessons in advanced political negotiation. Cause, you know, if you ever needed someone to agree with you right quick and in a hurry, I believe that might be the fastest way. At the very least it would force them to keep their mouths shut and drop out of the conversation entirely.<p>

Zabini: Oh... my future children have been murdered...

Constance: Shut your mouth unless you want more where that came from.

Zabini: ~squeaks and runs/hobbles away~


	20. New Holiday Plans

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Integral Hellsing's desk was covered with stacks of paperwork. It would take forever to do all of it. Usually, she only worked on documents regarding their missions against vampires and other supernatural creatures that attacked the human populace. But within the past several months, they all began facing a more annoying problem.

Iscariot was starting to push the boundaries of what they were allowed to do. A treaty had been drawn up right after the great war, creating very distinct boundary lines between their territories. Hellsing agreed not to trespass on their land as long as they didn't step foot on theirs. However, the treaty had to be renegotiated every two years or so to take new population changes into account. The Vatican always attempted to claim areas with a high Catholic population as their own. They were due for another renegotiation meeting in a few months, but Iscariot had already taken it upon themselves to act as though boundary lines had already been changed. They were slowly, but steadily moving into Hellsing territory – just enough to make a point without backing themselves into the corner of doing something they shouldn't be. When dealing with territorial lines, it was relatively easy to claim not to know exactly where they lay when on the field. Integra knew better though, and didn't appreciate the challenge one bit.

"If they keep doing this, we have every right in the world to engage them." Edmund pointed out.

The knight glanced sideways at her husband. "We can't attack them until there is a clear cut breech of treaty. They haven't moved far enough into our land to draw much attention to themselves. We have enough trouble with the Round Table as it is without them thinking we're trying to start a war."

Hellsing had two options available. They could simply wait for the appointed time for renegotiating the treaty in March, or they could demand an emergency session to be called as soon as possible. With the situation the way it was, Integra didn't feel comfortable waiting it out. However, meetings with Iscariot always took a long time to complete due to harsh and tense feelings held by members of both of their organizations. It could take more than a week to have something new drawn up, and this would be Hellsing's year to host the meeting. There were many things to take into consideration.

"Constance and Mihnea should be coming home for the holidays next week." she commented thoughtfully.

Ed nodded, then studied her. "You don't want them here for it."

Normal negotiations with Iscariot were intense enough. The children had been in the house when those took place, but were never allowed near the conference room. With this being a more serious meeting brought on by accusations of a breech, things were bound to be much more heated than usual. Threats would probably be made by both sides, and if any of the Vatican officials so much as said a word about one of the children, they would probably be shot. She couldn't afford to have a death on her hands.

"I believe it would be best if they remained at school." the knight said finally. "Mihnea could handle himself here, but I don't want Constance left alone at that castle with what's been going on there." she paused. "If they both come home, they'll try to get in the middle of things, and this meeting is going to be uncomfortable enough without having to worry about them too."

Her husband inclined his head in silent agreement. Constance and Mihnea were known for sneaking around and spying on things since they were small children. Alucard and Syn's son usually wound up doing most of the actual work, but Connie was almost always the instigator and brain behind the operation. Once they were older and better prepared, those qualities would be useful to them. But for now, it was too dangerous to drop something inciting before their eyes and order them not to go near it. They both would take that as an invitation to go on one of their famous snooping missions.

"Connie got that from you, Integra."

The knight blinked at Edmund. "Excuse me? I have **never** been a snoop."

The man grinned. "No, she definitely got the snoopiness from me." he admitted. "But she's bossy and takes control of everything. She got that from** you**."

Integra studied him for a long moment, then picked up the crystal ashtray she always kept on her desk for when she smoked one of the cigars. "I am very fond of this." she told him. "Don't make me throw it at you."

Edmund smiled like he was laughing on the inside. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

><p>Final exams were upon them, and everyone was pouring through their notebooks over breakfast. Hermione and Constance were huddled together trying to formulate a study schedule.<p>

"Alright, the test in Herbology will be on Wednesday, so we can block in an hour on Tuesday after classes." Granger said. "And Astronomy... I suppose we can work on that Thursday afternoon, since that's the last exam."

Harry and Ron were trying to pay attention, though they didn't really understand what they were doing.

"You two study all the time." Harry said, selecting a piece of toast from one of the many trays. "Why are you doing this now?"

Connie shot him a look. "Because the final exams cover the entire term and there are things at the beginning we need to read over again." she told him. "And you had **better** be writing this down, because you two are coming to study sessions too."

The ginger headed boy coughed on a bite of his food. "I didn't agree to that!"

"Ron, your grades are awful." Hermione said. "You're studying whether you like it or not."

The boys looked at each other and slumped. Harry didn't much like the idea of studying for exams either. Fred and George noticed and leaned over.

"Just do what they say." they both suggested. "It's easier that way."

Constance arched a brow at them. She set down her spoon and clasped her hands in front of her. "You two are going to be working on Potions with me on Wednesday at 4:00, so be ready."

The twins sat back and gaped at her. "**Wednesday**?" Fred exclaimed. "That's right after Quiddich practice!"

George looked about as happy as his brother. "We'd have to run to make it!" he said. "You can't push the time back?"

She shook her head. "That's the only time I have available, so you're just going to have to deal with it." Constance replied. When they both opened their mouths to say something else, she went on. "And no, I am not going to help you cram the morning of the test."

Fred and George's mouths snapped shut. That was precisely what they were going to ask. Ron looked highly amused.

"Just do what she says." he repeated in a mocking falsetto voice. "It's easier that way."

"Oh, shut up." the twins snapped at him.

Constance just smiled and went back to finishing her cereal. There was supposed to be an intense review in Charms and she wanted to get to the classroom a bit early to prepare. Over their heads, the morning owl post was coming in. A ruffly looking gray owl dropped Ron's copy of The Daily Prophet into his lap. As the boy opened it to read, she felt George tug on her shirt sleeve.

"Isn't that your owl?" he asked.

Connie looked up to see what he was talking about. Archimedes was flying up near the rafters. He swooped down and slowed his speed so he could safely land on her shoulder. He was still bad about misjudging how deep his talons went, and she winced as he settled his weight down.

"Watch the claws!" she told him.

Archimedes readjusted himself to withdraw them, then craned his neck toward her. There were two letters from home in his beak. Mihnea must have sent something to the manor and her owl just stayed there until they wrote something back. He had developed a habit of doing that after all the letters she'd sent to various places over the summer. She took the one with her name on it, noticing that the other was addressed to her cousin.

"Huh. That's strange..." she said to herself. She waved the owl off toward the Slytherin table. "Go on then."

Archimedes hopped down to her arm, then spread his wings to fly off in the direction she indicated. She watched as he landed on Mihnea's shoulder to give him his letter. It was then that she turned her attention back to hers. She ripped open the top of the envelope and pulled out the message inside.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Constance read the note, careful to hold it so the others couldn't see. It said that Iscariot was causing trouble back home and they were calling an emergency meeting with them over Christmas break. Her mother thought it was best for them to stay at school rather than coming home like they usually did.

"I... think I'm going to be staying here for Christmas." she said after a long pause. "Something is going on back home."

She glanced toward the Slytherin table. Mihnea looked just as confused and taken aback as she felt. Christmas was a special time of year. Their family always made a point of rearranging work schedules so they could spend at least that one day together. Of course, if something important was going on, she could rationally understand the decision. But... not being able to spend the holidays or her birthday at home was... really disappointing.

"Really?" Harry asked, then took in her expression. "It's not so bad. All of us are staying too. Even Hermione."

Constance shook her head to clear it, and looked over at the girl. She usually made such a big deal about being with her family for Christmas. It was strange she'd rather stay at school than go home.

"Why are you staying?" she asked.

Hermione looked worried for only a second. It was a brief change of expression, but Connie saw it. "Oh! I just thought it would be interesting to see how things are done here for the holidays." she replied. "I've heard there's a Christmas feast that's absolutely wonderful."

_Uh huh. _She thought. It probably had more to do with that thing they all were keeping secret from her. She still hadn't been able to get any hints about what they were doing. She'd pointedly asked Hermione several times and the girl always told her she was imagining things.

"Oh, okay." she said, pretending that she accepted the explanation at face value. "So what all goes on here during Christmas?"

The boys had all spent a Christmas at Hogwarts before, so they told them stories of presents being delivered by owl on Christmas morning, a massive feast laid out for everyone who remained at school, and all the teachers and students of various houses sharing one table for the duration of winter break. It sounded like they'd be allowed to wear muggle clothes during the holiday as well. They were required to wear their school uniforms at all times while on the grounds. The only time you didn't have to was during a visit to Hogsmeade, and those were only for third years and above. It would be nice to wear her own, comfy clothes around the castle for once.

The bell rang to signal the students it was time to head to class. _So much for getting there early_, Constance thought. She pushed aside all the battling thoughts running through her head and focused on getting through the day. She could feel dejected and depressed later.

* * *

><p>"I'm telling you mate, you need to just buck up and do it."<p>

"I will. I'm waiting for the right moment."

"No, you're being a **chicken**, is what you're doing."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Bock, bock, bock, bock..."

"Shut your face or I'll turn you into a chicken!"

"Fifteen Galleons says you won't do it before Christmas."

"... Thirty says I'll do it by this weekend."

"**Deal**."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>You know, I think of reviews like... jelly donuts. The outside is all warm, chewy awesomeness, and the inside is gooey, yummy wonderfulness.<p> 


	21. First Dates and Polyjuice Potions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The Astronomy exam Connie had taken the night before marked the official end of first term. Since they had been released from class at nearly 1am, she decided not to bother with an alarm and just sleep until her internal clock woke her up. When her eyes finally cracked open, she found that it was 2:37 in the afternoon. Aside from her things, Hermione's belongings were the only ones in the room that hadn't been touched. The other girls had packed up and left for the holiday without her hearing a thing. She must have been really tired.

Even though she was awake, Constance didn't feel an immediate urge to get out of bed. She rolled over and threw an arm over her eyes to block out the light streaming in from the windows. If she were home, she'd have never been allowed to sleep this late unless she were sick. Rebecca, the woman who had been hers and Mihnea's nursemaid when they were little and who now served as their governess, would have come in to wake her up by 10:00am, if not earlier. If her attempt was unsuccessful, Jackson would come in next to give a stern warning that getting out of bed was in her best interests. After that, her father would come into her room with a bowl of ice water to dump on her head. After enduring that once, Constance quickly learned to get up by the time their butler came to fetch her.

But she wasn't home. She was stuck here in this castle which, while a wonderful place and filled to the brim with interesting things, wasn't really an adequate substitute. Without classes to keep her busy, there wouldn't be much to do. And with Harry, Ron, and Hermione off doing their own thing without her, she would be pretty much left to her own devices. Mihnea... she could search out Mihnea to do something with him, but she imagined he would take advantage of the break to return to the nocturnal schedule he kept at home. He probably wouldn't get out of his bed until closer to nightfall... Ugh, this holiday was going to be **awful**.

She dozed lightly for another hour or so before finally forcing herself out of bed. What she was going to do to pass the time, she had no idea, but she had to get up and do something. Constance pulled a pair of faded jeans and a light blue cashmere sweater out of her wardrobe, then put them on before heading down to the common room.

There wasn't a soul to be seen anywhere. Goodness, just about everyone in Gryffindor must have gone home. It was eerily quiet. The only sound came from the crackling fireplace. Since she'd missed lunch and supper wouldn't be served for a couple of hours yet, there was no point in going downstairs. So she curled up in one of the massive armchairs set in front of a table and passed the time by playing solitaire. She had completed six games and was working on a seventh when she heard a voice behind her.

"You look like you're having **loads** of fun." it said sarcastically.

It was one of the twins, but she couldn't tell which one until he hopped around in front of the chair and crouched down on the other side of the table. Connie looked him over.

"George, why are you wearing Fred's sweater?" she asked. "You know it doesn't work with me."

He looked down at the bright red 'F' emblazoned on the chest of his hand-knitted sweater. "Just because it doesn't work on you, doesn't mean it wont work on everyone else." he replied smartly. "So today, he's Gred, and I'm Feorge." he folded his hands on the table and rested his chin on top of them to watch what she was doing with the cards. "What's this? Some kind of muggle game?"

One of her brows slowly went up. First, they were switching names altogether, and now they moved on to switching only the first initial? _At least they're creative about it,_ she thought.

"It's called solitaire." she told him. "Wizards don't play card games?"

George pointed at her lines of cards. "Not like that. How are you supposed to play a game by yourself?"

"Um... that's the whole point?" she replied. "It's **solitaire**. Like 'solitary'?"

He looked like he thought it was the strangest thing he'd ever heard. "Huh. Muggles sure come up with some weird things..." he pulled his head up from the table and rocked back on his heels. "So, are you completely wrapped up in that, or do you want to do something more interesting?"

Constance found it a teensy bit strange he was asking, but the idea of doing something more interesting than playing cards by herself was enough to capture her attention.

"Like what?" she asked.

He tapped his chin like he had to think about it. "I don't know. Maybe... come to Hogsmeade with me?"

That made her sit back in the chair and blink. It wasn't just the idea of what he suggested, but how he worded it. The fact that he was doing this on his own rather than Fred being involved was equally suspicious. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Are you asking me out on a date, George Weasley?" she asked.

"That depends." he replied with a shrug.

"It **depends**?" she questioned, confused. "On what?"

"On what you say." George told her, looking completely serious. "See, if I ask you out and you say no, then I have to live with the shame of rejection. But if I just ask you to **go** somewhere with me and you say no, then it's completely different and I don't have to feel like a loser."

He'd actually put some thought into this. Connie wasn't quite sure whether to think it was funny, or just be confused.

"So it's only a date if I say yes?" she asked, making sure she understood him.

He nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."

Wow, this had to be the strangest situation she'd ever been in. She thought about it a moment. Did she want to go on a date with him? Of the two of them, she actually got along with George a teensy bit better. She'd never expected him to ask her out though. But... he did tend to make a point of talking to her more often than Fred did... Why on earth had she not noticed that?

"Why should I agree to go with you, then?"

"Let's see." George said, then held up his fingers to begin listing things off. "Fred is off seducing some Hufflepuff girl, leaving me one-ly. You're obviously one-ly too, and one-ly people should stick together so they can be one-ly together. But most importantly, I am both funny and completely adorable."

Despite the humor he was putting into it, he did have a point. Fred waskind of known for being a ladies man. And at that moment, George **was **being pretty damn adorable. She couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See?" George said, pointing at her. "You're laughing already. Bet your muggle card game can't do that, can it?" he then clasped his hands together in front of him and gave her a puppy dog eyed look. "Pretty please? With cherries and licorice snaps on top?"

Damn those damn puppy eyes. That wasn't the least bit fair. Connie made a face. "I don't much like cherries or licorice."

"Hmm... Raspberries?"

"Too tart." she replied.

"Pineapple?" he asked, trying again. "Oranges, peaches, coconut, apples, grapes, or peppermint swirls?"

Now that was just cute. He was going to name off everything he could think of until he found something she liked. She laughed again. "Strawberries." she told him. "I like strawberries."

"Strawberries it is!" he declared. "Pretty please with a mountain of strawberries on top?"

Constance tried to reign in her giggling fit by taking a deep breath of air. She allowed herself to drop against the back of her chair and cocked her head to the side. "Fred dared you to do this, didn't he?"

"No." George replied a little too quickly. When he saw one of her brows go up, he coughed. "I was going to ask you anyway." he told her. "He just bet I wouldn't do it before Christmas."

That sounded like something they would do. Making bets to get money out of every small thing they could. She looked up toward the ceiling and thought about it.

"How much money do you have on this?"

"Thirty galleons." he replied.

Holy hell, that was a** lot** of money for them to put down on a date. Either Fred was expecting to her to say no, or he really wanted her to say yes. Or George was so sure of himself that he wasn't worried about losing. That was kind of... weird and sweet all wrapped up into one. The amount made her feel a bit better about what she was going to do.

"Okay, I'll go out with you." she told him. "On one condition. You have to use the money from this bet to pay for it."

He gave her a big grin and bit his tongue between his teeth. "Why'd you think I was betting on it in the first place?"

Ah, so the whole reason he'd been taking bets on them was so he could fund whatever it was he had planned. Constance's dad would probably think that was funny. She wasn't quite sure what her mother's opinion of it would be. She agreed to meet him by the stairs leading up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom in about an hour. George had to go find his brother to collect his 'winnings', and Connie had to put on some shoes before she could go anywhere. After selecting a pair of sneakers from her wardrobe in the dormitory, she wondered how he intended to get her to Hogsmeade without anyone catching them. Just walking off the grounds wouldn't work because they would be seen by a teacher. But Fred and George were just as good about sneaking around as she and Mihnea were, so she figured he had a plan.

* * *

><p>So George had finally grown a pair and asked Connie out on a date, Mihnea thought to himself. He'd noticed the boy's growing interest in her for months, but didn't say anything about it. He didn't really have a problem with either of the twins – aside from their habit of randomly making things explode in every class he had with them. But this was his cousin he was making a pass at. He'd not seen anything that showed he was good enough for her. Of course, he'd probably never think anyone was good enough, but that was beside the point. He seriously hoped this would just be a minor thing. Dating meant getting closer to someone than the simple bonds of friendship required. Getting close to someone meant opening up and trusting them with things... letting them know things about yourself that others didn't know. For people like the two of them, that was a dangerous thing. One of the many reasons why he hadn't bothered going after a girl himself. (Not that there were any girls worth going after.) For the moment, that wasn't an issue to be concerned with. Mihnea was more worried about George getting too close to her for his comfort. Like... putting his arm around her or something. That sort of thing was a gateway drug to things like cuddling. Or kissing. If George Weasley so much as <strong>thought<strong> about kissing his cousin, he would rip his intestines out through his nostrils. He had to keep an eye on this 'date' until he was absolutely certain that Weasley wasn't going to try anything he'd have to beat the shit out of him for. Connie would kill him if she knew he was following them, but she'd get over it. He didn't intend on her finding out anyway.

They snuck out to Hogsmeade through a secret passage beneath a statue near the DADA classroom. Mihnea hadn't known about it and he made a mental note of where it was for the future. The winding tunnel led straight to the cellar of Honeydukes. When the two of them climbed out, the Mihnea had to allow them to get a little ahead of him so they wouldn't see him exiting as well. One of the things about visits to Hogsmeade was that there were so many adults within the village itself, the teachers didn't usually bother to chaperone the students. The villagers could take care of making sure they didn't get into trouble. With Constance's birthday only a few days away, she could tell anyone who asked that she was already thirteen, and no one would say anything about her being there.

It turned out to be a pretty boring expedition for him. After browsing through Honeydukes and Zonko's to make several purchases (there was no way for a Weasley to go to Hogsmeade without making a stop at the joke shop), Connie and George wound up taking a table at Madam Puddifoot's coffee shop to talk. It was hardly worth listening in on, Mihnea thought. His cousin was pretty much telling Weasley all about muggle joke shops and the things they sold. He was keeping watch from a shadowy section outside, half listening to Connie explain the details of how a hand buzzer worked, when he felt the gentle tug of Pixie finding something interesting.

Mihnea's cat was the first animal he'd ever been able to communicate with or mentally control without having to be taught how to do it. It was probably because she belonged to him and actually opened her mind up rather than him having to coax or force his way in like with other animals. It came in handy. Pixie, as intelligent as she was, could go just about anywhere in the castle without being hampered by anyone and if she found something unusual or interesting, she'd let him know. She couldn't 'talk' in the sense of using words, but she would let him see through her eyes and hear and smell things that she encountered. And while he was standing outside of the coffee shop in Hogsmeade with the sun beginning to set, he got a mental view of his common room down below the Black Lake. Pixie was laying on the floor with her head poked out from behind a sofa, watching Malfoy have a conversation with his two 'bodyguards', Crabbe and Goyle. Only, these two boys didn't **smell** like Crabbe and Goyle to his cat. When Mihnea paid closer attention, he found they smelled weird to him too. The odor was familiar, but they weren't members of his house. It took him a moment, but he figured out where he'd encountered those scents before. Connie's friends, Potter and Weasley. What the bloody hell were they doing in his common room looking like Crabbe and Goyle?

He shook his head to clear away the mental images he was getting and glanced back into the shop. Constance was fine. George obviously wasn't planning on doing anything other than talking, but if he tried anything Connie would probably slap the shit out of him. He could afford to leave her and see what her little friends were getting themselves into. It was too interesting to resist going to check it out.

Mihnea waited until he was outside of Hogsmeade itself to break into a run toward the castle. He could get there so much faster that way, even without using that secret passage he'd just learned about. When he entered the courtyard, Pixie was standing in one of the many doorways, waiting for him. He walked right up to her and looked down.

"Where are they, girl?" he asked.

Pixie meowed at him, then took off down one of the hallways. He followed her through doors and up staircases until they reached the second floor of the Gryffindor section of the castle. It seemed Potter and Weasley had finished whatever they were doing down in the Slytherin dormitory and had come back up here. Mihnea slowly walked down the hall, listening for any snatches of sound he could pick up. Further down, in a room that appeared to be a girl's bathroom, he could hear both of them and the Granger girl talking amongst themselves. It sounded like they were arguing about something.

"Hermione, you should probably go to the hospital wing." he heard Potter say. "I mean... is there any way to fix this on our own?"

"I **can't** go to the hospital!" Granger exclaimed, panicked. "What would we tell them? Just look at my face!"

"Your face?" Weasley asked, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. "Look at your** tail**."

_Tail?_ Mihnea thought. Okay, he just had to see what was going on. Picking up speed, he walked right through the door of the girl's bathroom and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

The three younger Gryffindors all gasped, and Harry and Ron both stepped toward each other to hide Hermione behind them. That was an unusual thing for them to do...

"What the bloody hell are you doing up here?" Harry demanded. "This is Gryffindor tower!"

Mihnea arched a brow. Most people weren't brave enough to talk to him that way. Maybe knowing that he was on their territory made Potter think he could get away with it.

"You're in a girl's bathroom." he pointed out. "And I believe you and Weasley there were just in my common room."

As they gaped at him in shock, Mihnea caught sight of a small cauldron sitting on the floor in front of the sinks and the subtle scent of a potion they'd been brewing. _Polyjuice_, he recognized. He'd smelled Snape brewing it for one of his seventh year classes before. So that's how they changed forms.

"Let me guess." he said, turning his attention back to the boys. "You brewed polyjuice to sneak into my dormitory to find out who the heir of Slytherin is."

Their mouths fell open even wider, if that were possible. "How... how did you know...?" Ron sputtered.

Mihnea ignored the boy and looked over their shoulders. Granger was crouched down behind them, still desperately trying to hide. He couldn't make out anything but her bushy hair and... cat ears? Without saying a word, he strode forward and pulled Potter and Weasley apart. Hermione gasped loudly and shrank back, trying to cover her face with her hands so he couldn't see what she looked like. But he could see enough of what was wrong without looking at her face. Every inch of her skin was covered in fur, and she had cat's ears and a tail. Even her hands had succumbed to the change. It looked like she was hiding behind a set of paws.

"What the bloody hell did you do to yourself, Granger?" he asked, wondering how she'd wound up that way. Polyjuice potion didn't work for animal transformations, and this one was incomplete. She still looked somewhat human.

"I... I don't know..." she said haltingly, as if she weren't sure whether she should be talking to him or not. "I thought I did everything right..."

He **should** leave them there to sort through the mess themselves. It was none of his business, and if a bunch of second years were stupid enough to attempt something as advanced as the polyjuice potion, they could deal with the consequences on their own. But... they were Connie's friends. And the fact that Granger had actually made the potion work – albeit a little too well – was impressive. He had no idea why, but he felt the urge to help her. Maybe it was because she had half turned herself into a cat. Hehad always been a cat person...

Mihnea shook his head slightly. That was... weird. He pushed the oddball thought to the side and sighed. If he was going to fix Granger's undesired feline transformation, he was going to be in for a long night. They would have to backtrack and figure out exactly what she'd done wrong and he would have to brew something from scratch to combat the effects. The polyjuice potion took a month to make properly, so brewing something to nullify it would normally take an equal amount of time. But there were ways around that. If he used a touch of sorcery, he could cook something up in a few hours. He'd have to do a little mental manipulation on the three of them to distract them from noticing what he was doing, but it could be done.

"Okay, the way I see it, you have two choices." he told Hermione after a moment's thought. "You can go to the hospital wing and spend weeks in there while they try to figure out what happened and how to fix you, or you can tell me exactly what you did so I can fix this right here before anyone finds out. Your choice."

Hermione's paws dropped, and her yellow slitted eyes blinked at him in confusion. "You're... you're not going to tell anyone about this?"

Mihnea sniffed. "Does it **look** like I'm running off snitch on you?" he asked. "Do you want to fix this now, or not?"

She stepped back, looking like she was made nervous by his tone. "I... want to fix it now."

Mihnea nodded. He figured as much. He searched out his cat and found her sitting to the left of the doorway.

"Pixie, go get my black bag with the red cross on it." he told her. "If anyone stops you, bite the hell out of them."

Pixie meowed in understanding, then ran off. Mihnea then looked at Potter and Weasley. "You two go down to the kitchens and get some food."

They both looked at each other in confusion. "Huh? Why?" Ron asked.

"The longer you stay under the influence of polyjuice, the more energy it saps out of you. Now go do it!" he snapped.

The boys jumped, then ran out of the room to do what they were told. It didn't take long for Pixie to come back into the bathroom dragging the requested bag behind her. He started pulling out potion ingredients while Granger cleaned out the mess she'd made of the cauldron they'd used. Potter and Weasley came back with a plate loaded down with food a few minutes later. They passed it over to Hermione, and she listed off everything she could remember about how she'd brewed the potion while she ate. With all the information he needed, he set to work discerning some way to create a potion to fix this mess she'd gotten herself into.

* * *

><p>A.N: In defense of Connie going out on a date at her age – I recently read a study that said that a disturbingly large percentage of girls have engaged in some kind of sexual act by the age of eleven. If girls that young can run around doing things like that, then they can date. Ginny got her first boyfriend when she was thirteen in the books and Connie is only a few days away from being thirteen, so I think it's acceptable.<p>

And Mihnea isn't a complete asshole** all** the time. He is fully capable of being nice when he wants to be. :)


	22. Apologies and Inventions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Hermione woke up with a splitting headache. As she pushed herself upright in bed, it took her a moment to figure out where she was. Her room in the Gryffindor dormitory, she realized. But how she had gotten there, she had no idea. The previous night was a complete blur. She tried to focus on what happened, and memories slowly came back to her.

Mihnea Bassarab had caught them. Even without Connie knowing what they were doing, he still managed to figure it out. Maybe he had seen Harry and Ron coming back from the Slytherin dorms and followed them. Whatever it was, his actions were surprising. He hadn't left them there to figure out how to fix Hermione's unwanted animal transformation on their own, and he hadn't reported them to a teacher. He sat there on the floor of the girls bathroom for hours, working to find a way to undo the mistake she had made. The girl was beginning to understand why so many people found him intimidating. He had been so quiet as he worked. Only speaking when he had to. He wasn't mean or tormenting, but he wasn't particularly friendly either. Businesslike, she decided. His entire manner had been businesslike. Respectful, but giving off the impression that there were invisible boundaries only he could see that he wouldn't cross. When he did open his mouth to say something to any of them, there was something about his tone that commanded attention. And his eyes... it had to have been a trick of the low light in the bathroom, but they seemed so... **vivid.** A shade of green Hermione would swear straddled the border of being unnatural. Even when he was being polite it was still a bit nerve-wracking. Of course, the sensation could have been brought on by the confusion of a Slytherin not trying to hex them into oblivion or get them in trouble. That sort of thing tended to make one feel off balance.

He wound up brewing a new potion to combat the effects of the one she'd made. Apparently, even though her polyjuice had worked for Harry and Ron, she had added one or two ingredients a bit too early – which slightly changed it's properties. It was strange to her that he'd been able to come up with something viable in only a few hours. With the polyjuice potion taking a month to brew properly, she would have thought a concoction to negate it would take a week or two at the least. Bassarab's mysterious response to her concern was: 'there are ways to get around that'. The other thing that was strange was that the potion he made had knocked her unconscious the moment she drank down the amount he measured out for her. Hermione had never heard of a potion that did such a thing. All the ones she knew of took effect immediately without any side effects. But then, the Slytherin boy made it sound like an advanced, complex process, so there was a possibility it was something she hadn't encountered in her studies before.

Just what Bassarab's motivation was for offering assistance, she didn't know. However, one thing was certain: she owed him a huge thank you, and Connie and equally large apology. After everything he'd seen last night, there was no way the girl wouldn't have been filled in on all the details. She was probably going to be upset with all three of them for not telling her about it.

Hermione rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, then gave a start when she saw the clock. It was nearly seven in the afternoon! Good lord, she'd slept the entire day away. Supper would be starting soon, and everyone was probably already downstairs. She clamored out of bed to get dressed so she could head down.

* * *

><p>The food was already laid out when she arrived. Three of the four house tables had been moved up against the walls, leaving a single table in the center of the Great Hall for everyone to use. So few students stayed at school during the holidays that there was plenty of room for all. Even the teachers shared the table with them. Hermione located her friends and walked over to join them.<p>

"Hey, Hermione." Harry greeted as she sat down next to Ron. He peered around to make sure no one was listening, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "You look better without all the fur."

She certainly hoped she looked better. Hermione knew she **felt** better now that she wasn't covered in fur and suffering the awful sensation of needing to cough up hairballs. She watched as Constance elbowed the boy in the ribs.

"Shut up!" she admonished quietly. "Someone will hear you." Connie looked around herself, then turned her attention to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Hermione replied. She bit her lower lip. "I'm... really sorry, for not telling you about what we were doing." she told her. "I thought..."

"I know what you thought." Constance interrupted, looking like she was more annoyed than truly angry. She studied her for a moment, then sighed. "I'm not going to say I'm not upset because it would be a lie. But it's over and done with now and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm just glad all of you are okay. It could have been **a lot** worse than it was."

Hermione inclined her head. Yes, it could have been. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that sort of comment. She was usually the one who lectured others about doing stupid things. At least Connie was sensible about it. She glanced down the table. There were a handful of Slytherins sitting about halfway down, but she didn't see Mihnea anywhere.

"Has Bassarab not come down yet?" she asked. "I wanted to thank him..."

"I imagine he's still asleep." Constance replied. "He's a night owl, so he sleeps during the day when he's able to."

_Oh,_ Hermione thought. Well, considering how late he'd been working with them, that wasn't surprising. She'd slept most of the day herself. Perhaps she'd run into him at another time.

The rest of dinner was spent discussing things that they didn't have to worry about others overhearing. Hermione was absolutely shocked to learn of Constance going out on a date with George Weasley. It didn't seem like he would be her type. She seriously considered pointing out how bad it could have been if they had gotten caught in Hogsmeade, but thought better of it. After what she and the boys had done, she really had no right to lecture her about doing something similar. Ron looked completely flabbergasted. Like he couldn't fathom how anyone would even think about dating one of his older brothers.

"**Why**?" he asked, looking extremely confused. "You always complain about them acting stupid in class!"

Connie rolled her eyes. "Doing stupid things doesn't mean they're stupid. They're actually extremely intelligent; they just don't apply themselves in class. And I honestly don't see what the big deal is. It was **one** date. It's not like I'm getting married or anything..."

"Married?" a voice questioned from their left. "Awesome! At least I'll get one sister-in-law I know I like."

Constance turned a bright shade of red as Fred deftly maneuvered himself between her and Harry. He slid an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm totally telling on you." he whispered in a mischievous tone.

The girl's mouth fell open, and she picked up her spoon to hit him on the head with it. "Don't you **dare**! I was being facetious and you know it!"

"Ow! Hey! You're supposed to beat up on George, not me!"

"Stop being an ass then." she replied with a sniff. "What are you doing down here anyway? Aren't you and George supposed to be working?"

Fred lifted a finger as if to give a speech. "**Sustenance**, Stryker! We need sustenance! Been up all night without eating a thing. I'm here to get supplies while George keeps an eye on the cauldron."

_They're working on something?_ Hermione wondered. What on earth would they be working on during a break from classes? Even Harry and Ron looked confused.

"What are you doing?" Harry questioned.

"Inventing." Fred replied. "It's a serious business, you know. Our future livelihood depends on our success." he paused for a second and pulled something that looked like a toffee out of his pocket. He held it out toward Ron. "Try this."

Ron narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What is that?"

"What, are you scared of a piece of candy?" his brother teased. "Just try it."

The boy still looked like he didn't trust him, but he slowly reached out to take the candy. After unwrapping the plain white paper it was wrapped in, he popped it into his mouth and started chewing.

"Huh." he said, pleasantly surprised. "That's not half bad. What is it?"

Hermione and Harry both gasped, their eyes going wide as blood started to seep from his nose. Not very much blood, to be honest, but enough to be noticed. Ron noticed their expressions and blinked.

"What?"

"Ron." Hermione said. "Your nose..."

His brows furrowed and he touched his fingers to his nose. When he pulled them away, he saw the red fluid for himself.

"What the bloody **hell**!" he exclaimed.

Fred studied him thoughtfully. "Well, that's not very impressive." he commented with a frown, as if trying to figure something out. "We'll have to change the mix."

Connie considered Ron's appearance. "You should add more Amaranth." she suggested. "It'll make the blood thinner so it will drip more."

"Oooooh... Good idea!"

Ron looked back and forth between them in shock, clutching at his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "This was on **purpose**! What did you do to me?"

"Used you as a guinea pig, that's what." Fred replied. "I told you we were inventing things."

"Candy to make your **nose bleed**!" Ron asked, still upset. "You could have said something!"

"I could have, but then you wouldn't have eaten it would you?" his brother said smartly. "Nosebleeds are just the first ones we're working on. There's a whole list of other things we haven't started yet." he paused to point at Constance. "It was all her idea."

She made a face. "Actually, I just told George about the sorts of things that you could find in a muggle joke shop." the girl corrected. "They're expanding and improving on them."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what she thought of that. With the twins being the way they were, giving them ideas for **more** outrageous things to do was like opening a can of worms. But she couldn't really see the point of candies that caused nosebleeds. Why on earth would anyone eat such a thing?

"What do you plan on doing with them?" Harry asked, voicing the question that was floating through her mind.

"Sell them, of course." Fred told him. He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Imagine it, Potter. You want to give one of your mates a good scare? Find a convenient excuse for getting out of class? Get revenge on an enemy without getting caught? Just use one of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!"

Constance coughed. "Wheezes?" she questioned, blinking at him. "That's the best you guys could come up with? **Wheezes**?"

Fred looked somewhat affronted. "What? It **flows**. And it's catchy. You cant say you wouldn't remember that name if you ever heard it. It's going to be our trademark! We've got a logo figured out and everything." He used his wand to conjure up a basket, then filled it to the brim with a selection of food from the platters on the table. "Got to run. Lots of work to do!"

With that, he pushed himself up from the table to leave. The moment Fred was out of earshot, Ron huffed.

"I am **never **taking candy from them again." he muttered.

Constance held out a napkin. Ron took it and pressed it against his nose. Once he was sure the bleeding had stopped, he gave her a look.

"You're helping them, aren't you?" he asked accusingly.

The girl shrugged. "They're doing all the major stuff themselves. I just told them I would help get the proportions right and keep track of their experiments. They don't write anything down, so someone needs to be a records keeper so they'll be able to duplicate the recipes they come up with."

"Jesus, Connie, you're just as bad as they are!" he exclaimed.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Sit around for two weeks and die of boredom? It's interesting and it passes the time. "

She made it sound so innocent and innocuous. The last thing anyone needed was more mayhem around the castle – which those 'Wizard Wheezes' would surely cause if they were a selection of things similar to the nosebleed candy. But Constance had a point. Without classes to go to, it did get boring. Perhaps if she were involved, the twins wouldn't come up with anything that was too bad.

* * *

><p>A.N: I imagine the only reason why Hermione isn't questioning how she wound up in her bed in the Gryffindor dormitories is because Mihnea used some kind of vampiric hocus pocus to make her and the boys forget about him being in there and erase any urge to ask about it later. Just so no one would go freaking out about a Slytherin boy being inside of her bedroom.<p>

And all that money George won for pay for the date? He probably used most of it to buy supplies. They have a one track mind, those boys. God, I love them. :)


	23. Nightmares

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

It was pitch black. The type of darkness that completely enveloped a person and made it impossible to see even the barest hint of things surrounding them. There was no real stimulus to any of Mihnea's senses but the frightening feel of being suffocated. No... that wasn't quite right. He could breathe, but there was something shoved down his throat he had to pull air through to get it into his lungs. Everything else was... water. At least, it felt like water. It could have been some other fluid, given that he couldn't see. But despite the isolation and blindness, he still had the unnerving feeling that he was enclosed in a tiny space. So small that if he were to make the slightest movement, he would encounter the sides of the enclosure. Something he could never hope to escape.

This was what terrified him the most. Being trapped and unable to escape. Powerless and too weak to do anything.

Then... then came the blinding lights and the pain. Voices speaking a language he didn't understand while needles were buried into his skin and blades cut into his flesh. These people... they were trying to put something in him. Something they couldn't seem to make work. He couldn't count the number of times they'd tried. It had been so often, the separate incidents had begun to blur together into one, massive whole. A single experience of being cut open and tortured, able to feel every small sensation, then put back into the tiny enclosure to await their next attempt.

Then, he heard something he could understand. Heavily accented English spoken in ominous tones that did nothing to calm his fears.

"Ve must find a vay." it said. "Ve've created the perfect monster. Ve must be able to control it."

Everything was disorienting. The lights expanded into colors he couldn't comprehend. Mind numbing fear as he realized flesh was being sliced apart and stretched open. The blinding agony... Then there were the **sounds**. The high pitched whine of saws designed to slice through bone. The deeper, more menacing growl of drills meant to burrow deep. A cold, rubbery feeling hand pressed against his spine and he felt the saw blade placed firmly just below the back of his neck. Mihnea heard the whirring whine first, then felt the pain flood through his body and overwhelm every one of his senses.

Feeling everything with nothing to subdue it, he screamed.

* * *

><p>Mihnea shot upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. His eyes darted wildly around the room, half expecting to find the specters from his dream there waiting for him. When he saw that nothing was there, he attempted to bring himself under control and calm down. His heart was racing. He took slow deep breaths to make it slow down to a more normal rate.<p>

Nightmares had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. They weren't a constant occurrence, but they would randomly pop up to torment him. When they began they would usually stretch on for weeks before receding. Memories of things done to him before his parents had found him. Things that he **shouldn't** be able to remember, but did. Normal people didn't remember things that occurred during their infancy. But Mihnea had never been and would never be normal.

No matter what the people who knew told him, he hated it. The isolation that came from being different. On the outside, he pretended that he didn't care. But deep within, he did. A little too much, in fact. He wished there was a way to make it go away.

Sleep was no longer an option for him. Mihnea was too disturbed to stay in bed. As he pushed back the blankets, he noticed blood under his fingernails. He must have clawed at himself while he slept. It happened sometimes. His suspicion was confirmed when he checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror. There were deep scratches – some still bleeding – all over his neck, stretching down to his shoulders. He couldn't keep doing this. Someone would notice the scratches eventually and question him about it. The last thing he needed was someone, especially a teacher, thinking that he was deliberately hurting himself. Surely there was a potion that would stop the nightmares. Something to help him sleep better at night. His mother could come up with something that always worked, but he couldn't remember the ingredients. They were most likely things he wouldn't be able to find at school anyway.

But he knew someone who might have something. Mihnea didn't particularly like the idea of talking to him about this problem, but it had to be done. Taking a deep breath, he changed into something that was appropriate to walk around the castle in, then headed out to find his head of house.

* * *

><p>Professor Snape was in his office working on grading papers. He usually found some kind of paperwork to keep him busy outside of the times he had to be present for meals. The door was cracked, so Mihnea could only see a sliver of the room. He knocked on the door, then waited to be addressed.<p>

"Enter."

The boy pushed the door open and stepped inside. Snape looked up from his desk and took in the sight of him with his dark colored eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Bassarab?" he questioned.

Mihnea never liked talking about things that bothered him because it always made him feel off balance. Vulnerable. It was a sensation he despised. He swallowed down the feeling and cleared his throat.

"I was wondering if I could ask for your help with something, sir." he said.

The Potions Master quirked a brow. "And what would that be?"

"I..." he paused, thinking about the best way to say it. "I'm having trouble sleeping."

Snape didn't look particularly impressed. "Mr. Bassarab, there are a number of potions and remedies for that particular malady. I believe you are perfectly capable of creating one of them yourself. If not, Madam Pomfrey has a collection of them in the hospital wing."

With that said, he went back to grading his papers. Yes, there were plenty of remedies for not sleeping, but dreams were a different matter. He decided he should just come out with it and get it over with.

"I'm having nightmares, sir." he told him.

Snape's hand paused in it's writing and he glanced back up, his eyes narrowing. "You want assistance in getting rid of **nightmares**?"

Mihnea knew it probably sounded stupid to him. Most people's nightmares were fleeting things. They were scary for a moment, then the fear faded upon waking up. He had an idea of how to convince him that this was different, but he wasn't sure if he should do it or not. However, Professor Snape was the sort of person who knew the importance of keeping his mouth shut when it came to certain things. Mihnea thought if anyone could be trusted with knowing something about himself he didn't want others to find out, it would be his head of house.

"They're... memories." he admitted at last. "Bad memories."

The Potions Master sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful. It seemed he was going to take him more seriously now.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked.

"Off and on for as long as I can remember." Mihnea told him. "Once they start, they go on for weeks."

Snape frowned. "What sort of memories do these nightmares consist of?"

He was probably asking because there were certain potions to deal with specific things. Mihnea took a deep breath.

"Sir... I don't want anyone else to know about this." he said.

Snape studied him for a long moment. Mihnea had the feeling that he was attempting to poke around inside his head to figure out what he was going on about. His mother was immune to magical manipulation like mind-reading and he was thankful now that it was something he had inherited from her. The man could poke and prod all he liked and would never get inside of his thoughts. The Potions Master looked surprised for a brief moment, then made a hand gesture.

"Out with it then." he said.

Mihnea never once thought he'd actually be willing to do this. But it was necessary to get the point across. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and pulled the hem of his shirt up to show the professor his back. He bore vicious looking scars along his spine and across his back from experiments and multiple surgeries performed on him by the Nazis. He had been an infant at the time, but the scars remained to remind him of it. His mother said there was nothing she could do to make them go away.

_Magic can heal the most serious of wounds, _he remembered her telling him._ But even the most powerful forms of magic can't remove the marks left behind. If it could, I would have regrown my ear and removed all of my scars a long time ago._

"I remember this." he said quietly. "And I don't want to have to relive it every night."

When he dropped his shirt and turned back around, the Potions Master was sitting up straighter in his chair, looking more intent and serious than he had ever seen him before.

"Did someone in your family do that to you?"

The boy gave a start. "No!"

It was probably common practice to ask such a question for safety's sake, but he still found the implication of it offensive. Snape studied him carefully, looking like he was trying to discern whether or not he was lying. When he leaned back in his chair once more, it seemed that he accepted the answer.

"When did this happen?" he questioned.

_From the moment I was made._ Mihnea thought to himself. An honest response wouldn't work, so he had to give him a carefully constructed lie peppered with just enough truth to make it sound believable.

"I don't really know, sir." he told him. "I was... very young."

Snape considered his response, then pushed himself back from his desk. "Follow me, Mr. Bassarab."

Mihnea obeyed and followed his head of house out of his office and into his private storeroom. Students were never allowed in there – and even he hadn't seen it during his many hours of 'restocking'. This storeroom wasn't for ingredients, but potions already brewed and bottled. Kept hidden away in the event they were needed and there was no time to make them from scratch. Fastened to the shelves was a ladder connected to a rolling system that allowed it to be pulled around the room without having to be picked up and repositioned by hand. Snape pushed the ladder over to a particular shelf, then climbed up to look through the collection of colored bottles.

"Dreams are especially difficult to manipulate with magic because they are unique to the individual." he said as he picked up bottles and put them back on the shelf. "Even more so with dreams inspired by memories. The more traumatic they are, the more resistant they are to being suppressed." he finally found what he was looking for and climbed back down.

It was a small, dark blue bottle with a sliver cap. The professor passed it to him, giving him a serious look as he did so.

"This is a newly developed potion which has shown varying degrees of success." Snape told him. "There is no guarantee it will stop the nightmares entirely, but it should make them less severe. Take three drops in a glass of water before bed. If there is no discernible change, you may increase it to four drops the next night. Taking any more than four would be dangerous."

Well, it wasn't very much, but at least it could help take the edge off until his mother was able to come up with something for him. He'd have to write home to ask. In the meantime, this would have to do. Mihnea slid the bottle into his pocket.

"Thank you, sir." he said gratefully.

He turned to leave, but Snape stopped him by grabbing his arm. The man's black eyes seemed to bore into him.

"Is there anything **else** you need to tell me about yourself?" he asked in a low tone.

Mihnea went very still. Snape was probably curious as to why he'd been unsuccessful in his attempt to read his mind.

"Nothing that anyone needs to know." he replied.

It seemed like forever went by before Snape let go of his arm. The expression on his face was both searching and understanding. Mihnea's intuition told him that the Potions Master had plenty of secrets he hid from the world as well. He didn't know exactly what they were, but he could sense it. Perhaps that was why he didn't press any further.

"Very well." he said with a nod. "If there's nothing else, you are free to go."

The boy had no intentions on going back to bed. He'd just woken up, and he preferred being up during the nighttime hours anyway. He decided to give Snape's potion a try before worrying his mother about giving him one of her remedies. He seriously hoped it would make things better. Having nightmares caused him to be moody and irritable. High emotional states like that tended to make him more sensitive to his surroundings.

Mihnea was going to have to up his blood intake to several times a day until this spell of nightmares was over. The last thing he needed was to smell blood on some random girl and suffer through bloodlust as well.


	24. Altercation

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance noticed that Mihnea was acting weird again. He didn't come down to meals and he had practically moved up to the Astronomy Tower. Every hour he wasn't sleeping, he stared out at the night sky, taking notes and drawing out his star maps. For the time being, she left him alone. But if this went on for much longer, she was going to start worrying. The one thing she did bother him about was coming to the Christmas feast. If she couldn't be home, she at least wanted one member of her family around to share it with. She went up to the Astronomy Tower the night before to ask him to come. Her cousin didn't look particularly happy about it, but he agreed.

The afternoon of the feast, everyone was excited. It wasn't just about the special Christmas dishes that would be served, but the promise of gifts delivered from home to be opened as they ate. Hermione said she had to finish something up in the library before joining the festivities, so Connie, Ginny and all the boys went down the Great Hall without her. It was surprisingly entertaining. All the teachers took up the far end of the table and Dumbledore had all of them popping crackers. There was nothing funnier than watching Snape be forced to pull something open that showered him with confetti and glitter. Confetti was pesky enough to clean up on it's own, but the glitter... he'd probably have traces of that in his hair for weeks.

The level of excitement grew when the owls came in to deliver packages. Several of them were so large that groups of the birds had to work together to carry them. Constance noticed Archimedes leading a whole flock of owls charged with delivering a particularly large box. If it came from home, then their parents would have put hers and Mihnea's presents in the same package for simplicity's sake.

"Another sweater?" Ron moaned upon opening his present. "You'd think mom would know we have enough of them already!"

Connie thought the Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters were quite charming. They had a personal touch you just couldn't get with something bought from a store. Harry's Aunt and Uncle didn't bother sending him anything, but he got a sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well. It seemed that the woman liked the boy enough that she did the same for him as she would do for her own sons. Ginny's box contained a simple, yet lovely looking dress. She wouldn't be able to wear it until it warmed up a bit of course, but she fawned over it like it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

She noticed that their brother Percy was sitting with the Prefects rather than with them. That was a bit odd, considering the holiday they were celebrating.

"Percy isn't coming over here?" she asked.

All of the Weasley's made identical faces of dislike.

"He thinks he's better than us for some reason." Fred reported. He made a 'quotes' gesture with his fingers. "Perfect prefect Percy has to sit with the **important** people instead of bothering with his **ordinary **family."

"He got offered an internship with the Ministry and has been acting stuck up ever since." Ron piped up. "Dad says to leave him alone and he'll get over it eventually."

_Wow... _Connie thought. She'd never thought about one of their siblings acting like such a prat. The twins pushed their own sweaters to the side and studied the large box that had been dropped in front of her.

"What did you get then?" George asked.

Constance blinked and turned her attention back to her present. She had to fight with the tape to get the damn thing open. They sealed the box shut like they intended for no one to ever get into it. She finally resorted to cutting through it with a dinner knife, then pulled the flaps open. She stared at what lay inside.

"Sweet holy Jesus, I've never seen one that big in person before..." she whispered, more to herself than the others.

Harry's brows furrowed. "What is it?"

Connie reached into the box to carefully remove her gift. It was a sizable cauldron plated with pure silver. The cauldrons all the students used in class were standard pewter. This was something that would be used to brew special, more highly advanced potions that required the influence of a specific metal. All of her friends eyes went wide.

"Bloody hell, Connie, is that **silver**?" Ron questioned.

Both of the twins whistled. "It's **huge.**" they said together, then exchanged a glance between themselves.. "Looks expensive."

She shot both of them a look. They knew she didn't like anyone making a big deal out of her family having money. Attached to the cauldron's handle was a small note. It looked like Aunt Syn's handwriting.

_The potion used to cure people who have been petrified requires a silver cauldron for brewing. I imagine you'll find a way to use it. And it will be seeing a lot of use when you get home as well. Hugs and Kisses._

Connie hadn't known that a silver cauldron had to be used for that particular potion. It would indeed be a handy thing to have. Inside the box, there were a few other things addressed to her. A few novels she'd indicated she had an interest in reading, and a large tome on calculus and trigonometry from her dad. He was never going to give up on that, was he? At least he finally caved in and sent a calculator for her to use. It would be extremely difficult to do those sorts of problems without one. The rest of the presents in the box were for Mihnea, so she left them alone. After pulling out all of her things and pushing the package to the side, the others started rifling through them to see what they were. Ginny seemed to be having fun pressing all the buttons on her calculator to see what they did.

"_The Picture of Dorian Gray_?" George asked, reading off the title of one of the books. "What is that?"

"Oh my God, you got _The Picture of Dorian Gray_!"

It was Hermione's voice. Apparently, she had finished whatever she was doing and had finally come down. She rushed over to join them at the table and stared at the book like it was an object to be worshiped. George quirked a brow at the intensity of her reaction to it. He passed it over and Hermione took it carefully, lovingly running her fingers over the hard cover.

"It's a first edition too!" she went on, gushing over it. She looked at Connie pleadingly. "Oh... can I read it when you're finished? I promise I wont let anything happen to it."

"Of course." she replied. She gestured to the rest of the books she had stacked up. "If there's anything else you want to read, have at it."

The bushy haired girl looked absolutely delighted at the offer and immediately began searching through them to see what she was going to borrow. As Hermione was wrapped up in indulging the bibliophile side of herself, Connie took the opportunity to look around. Mihnea hadn't arrived yet. He promised her he would at least show up. If he didn't, she was going to be upset with him. Just as she was running through all the possible ways she could lecture him about his absence, she caught sight of him coming in from a side door behind her. She paused to study the sight he presented.

Her cousin looked **awful**. Like he'd just rolled out of bed and hadn't bothered to worry about his appearance. He was still wearing his black pajama bottoms and it looked like he threw on a loose red sweater as an afterthought. His shoulder length hair was wild and messy, and his eyes... When he got a bit closer, Connie could see there were dark circles around his eyes, and the rims of them were red. It looked like he hadn't slept in days. She hadn't seen that when she searched him out the night before. It had been too dark to make out small details like that. What the hell was wrong with him to make him look that way?

Everyone went silent as he walked up behind Constance. Mihnea didn't pay them any attention.

"I'm here." he said in an voice smothered with exhaustion. "Are you happy now?"

Constance couldn't do much more than stare up at him. "Are... you okay?"

His emerald eyes narrowed, making him look like he was about to go off on her for asking a stupid question. "I'm fine." he told her. He glanced at the box she had pushed out of the way. "Is that from home?"

She shook her head to clear it of all the questions she wanted to ask, but couldn't around all of her friends. "Yes." she replied. "I got all of my presents out of it. Everything else is yours."

Without saying another word, he leaned over to pick it up. Harry and the twins, who were sitting nearby, all scooted over to get out of his way. As he moved to take the box with him further down the table, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Um... Mihnea?" she questioned, sounding a bit nervous. "I never got to thank you. For what you did the other day."

The boy paused mid-step, but didn't turn around. After a long stretch of silence that bordered on being awkward, he turned his head slightly.

"You're welcome." he said in an emotionless voice, then returned to his march down the table.

Every single one of them stared at his back as he left.

"Bassarab looks **rough.**" George commented, still watching him as he dropped the box nearly ten feet away from them.

Yes, he did, Connie thought. And it was worrisome with the way he'd been acting the past few days. She put her hands on the table to push herself up.

"Excuse me for a minute." she said, then headed down to see if she could talk to him.

Mihnea didn't raise his head to look at her when she sat down next to him. He was too occupied with rifling through his presents in the box. It looked like he was searching for something specific.

"Mihnea, what's wrong?" she prodded.

Her comment didn't get much of a reaction. Mihnea found what he was looking for. A small bottle filled with some type of fluid. Even with the tinted bottle, she could tell it was too light to be blood.

"I told you, I'm fine." he said, sticking the bottle in his pocket. He didn't look particularly concerned with the other presents.

This was infuriating. She was trying to figure out what was wrong so she could help if she could, and he wasn't even going to admit something was going on.

"Damn it, Mihnea!" she snapped. "You are **not** fine. You look like death warmed over. Now what is wrong with you?"

He finally glanced up at her, and the look in his eyes was a warning not to push him too far.

"I haven't slept in six days, Connie." he said in a low voice. "I feel like shit and I do **not** want to be here right now."

She blinked at him. He wasn't sleeping? She couldn't think of any reason he would be having problems with that, unless...

The girl leaned forward. "Are you having nightmares again?" she asked quietly.

Mihnea glared at her. "I don't want to talk about it."

That was pretty much a resounding 'yes'. It was no wonder he couldn't sleep. He'd had nightmares a lot more often when he was younger, and he always looked terrible afterwards. She cleared her throat.

"Maybe you could ask Snape for help?" she suggested. "I'm sure he would have something..."

"I **did**." he said harshly. "It's not working. Mom's potions are the only ones that do anything."

That must have been what he was looking for. Hopefully, if he started taking something Aunt Syn had made, then he would get over it in a day or two. But something needed to be done now to make him feel a little better.

"You should eat something." she decided. "You could come down and sit with us..."

"I am not sitting anywhere near Granger or the Weasley girl." he replied, giving her a serious look. "They smell like blood, and I **can not** handle that right now."

Now, that was just confusing. "How on earth could they smell like blood? There's nothing wrong with either of them."

He gave her another of those 'you just said something really dumb' looks. "They're girls, Connie."

She frowned. "What does that have to do with anythi..." she went still, realizing what he meant. "Oh. **Oh.**"

Jesus, was** that** why Alucard told him to drink blood more often? Because the smell of a girl's period made him hungry? Constance couldn't help it. That was the most disgusting thing she could imagine. _Eww..._

Mihnea's eyes became hard as he took in her change of expression. "Just go away, Connie. Go sit with your little boyfriend and all your buddies and leave me alone."

Connie gaped at him. Okay, she could understand being a little moody because of a lack of sleep, but there was no reason to get snippy about her friends. He had no business going and acting like a complete ass when she was trying to help him. Her eyes narrowed.

"You know what your problem is?" she asked, feeling her ire grow. "You're **jealous** that I actually have friends and you don't. It's not my problem if you are too scared of people finding out that you're a monster to let anyone get close to you."

Mihnea's face went completely blank. There was no expression at all, not even in his eyes. Then his mouth pressed into a thin, strained line and his eyes flashed with anger. It was then that she realized the weight of what she had said.

"That's what you think, is it?" he asked, then abruptly stood up and walked away.

Oh God, she'd made a huge mistake and had royally pissed him off. Constance had practically called him a monster. Her cousin was going to hate her now. She got up from the table as well to follow after him.

"Mihnea, wait!" she called out, hoping she could stop him so she could apologize. "I didn't mean it!"

She got close enough to grab the sleeve of his sweater, but he violently jerked his arm away. He whirled around and gave her the most terrifying, hateful look she'd ever seen. The edges of his green eyes started to shift to a deep, crimson red. A distinctly inhuman sound rumbled in the back of his throat – the growl of an angry animal. When his lips parted to speak, a hint of fang showed.

"Fuck you." he spat, then turned and marched out.

Ohhh, he was **extremely** upset and it was all her fault. Why had she gone and said something she knew he was sensitive about? Constance didn't know what to do. She just stood there and watched as he disappeared through the doorway.

What had she just done?

A.N: So, as I was working on editing this chapter, I discovered that a two foot long garter snake has decided to move into my house. Not just in any part of the house either. This thing has moved into MY BEDROOM. And it's too damn fast for me to catch so I can take its little snake butt back outside. My parents think it might have crawled up through the pipes and came out of the toilet.

Just think about that for a minute. And then add to that thought that it could have been something poisonous like a water moccasin. ~shiver~ I think this is a sign I might need to move.


	25. Research

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Mihnea didn't talk to her for weeks. It was the worst feeling Connie had ever endured. The two of them had arguments before, but nothing to this extent. He was so incredibly pissed at her for the comment she'd made that he wouldn't allow her to sit with him in Potions class. When she tried to approach their table, he told her to go away, then dragged over a Slytherin boy to take her place. He looked too terrified of Mihnea to protest about it. For the first time, she accepted George's request to be his lab partner. He and Fred separated, and his brother took up another table to work with Angelina Johnson. When they all were put to work on their potions, George leaned over to whisper.

"What's going on?" he asked. "I've never seem him look so pissed before."

He didn't usually bother to ask about what was going on with her cousin since he was a member of the 'enemy house'. He was probably wondering because he knew she was affected by it.

Connie's shoulders slumped. "I... said something to him that I shouldn't have. Now he's mad at me."

His brows furrowed. "Why don't you just apologize then?"

"Because he doesn't stick around long enough for me to get two words out of my mouth." she replied.

If she could get her cousin to stand still long enough, she would happily tell him how sorry she was. But every time he saw her outside of class, he immediately turned his back and walked in the opposite direction. And it wasn't like she could do it during Potions. Professor Snape would put and end to it just as quickly as Mihnea would himself. She would have to wait for him to calm down enough to allow her to get close to him again.

It was little more than a week after classes started up again that another student was found petrified. This time it was Justin Finch-Fletchley, the same boy who thought Harry was telling the snake to attack him during the dueling lesson. Both he, and Nearly Headless Nick were found in a hallway leading down to the Great Hall. Harry seemed to be suffering from an enormous amount of bad luck. For the second time, he was the first to discover them. People began whispering behind his back that it was a sign he was the heir of Slytherin. Justin had been the one to call him out after hearing him speak parseltongue, so Harry probably had him petrified to get revenge. It looked so bad that McGonagall took him straight up to Dumbledore's office to have a talk with the headmaster. Connie and the others found out later that it wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still nerve-wracking all the same.

Now there were four victims attacked by the monster in the Chamber. Filch's cat, two students, and a ghost. Things were becoming much more complicated.

"Someone has to do something." Hermione declared one night. "If this thing is capable of petrifying a ghost, then there's no telling what it could do to a person."

Constance and Ron both agreed with her, but Harry was strangely silent. He seemed to be too wrapped up in flipping through a small, leather bound book to pay attention to the conversation.

"Harry!" Hermione said, trying to get him to snap out of his daze.

The boy didn't show any reaction until Ron elbowed him in the ribs. "Huh?" he said, blinking. "What? Were you talking to me?"

They all studied him. Constance was starting to wonder if he was beginning to lose it. She already had Mihnea upset with her, so she didn't need one of her friends acting weird too.

"You've been really quiet lately." Hermione told him, then looked at the book in his hands. "Where did you get that anyway? I haven't seen it before."

"What, this?" he asked, holding up the book. "I found it in the girl's bathroom."

"What on earth were you doing in the girl's bathroom?" Connie questioned.

Ron leaned over to study the book. "Oh... so that's what she was throwing a fit about?" The two girls coughed and stared at them expectantly, hoping for some kind of explanation. The boy cleared his throat. "Moaning Myrtle had herself a crying fit a few days ago and flooded the girls bathroom." he explained. "Said someone threw a book at her head or something." He looked back at Harry. "Is that it, then?"

"I guess so." he replied with a shrug. "It's weird. I thought it was just a blank diary at first, but I accidentally dripped ink on one of the pages and it disappeared. Like it got... sucked right into the paper. Then I tried writing in it, and it writes back."

Constance blinked. First he was hearing voices in the walls, and now he had a diary talking to him? Maybe all the stress was finally getting to him. To her left, she noticed Hermione suddenly looked cautious.

"What sort of things does it tell you?" she asked.

"Well, at first it was just simple things." Harry told her. "I wrote in my name, and it told me it's name was Tom Riddle. Then I asked it if it knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets. Whoever used to own this diary was here at the school last time it was opened. It showed me what happened."

It s**howed **him what happened? Connie wondered. There was a big difference between something being written out in a book, and actually being shown something.

"How did it show you?" she asked.

Harry looked thoughtful. "It's... hard to explain. It felt like... I got pulled inside of it. Then I was in this other place and could see everything, but no one could see me. It was like being in the middle of a memory."

Everyone sat back, nervous. Even Ron looked disturbed by the information.

"I think you should leave it alone, mate." he told Harry. "If you can't see where something's brain is, you probably shouldn't trust it."

That was the most sensible advice Constance had ever heard come out of the boy's mouth. Harry, though, looked like he didn't understand what the big deal was.

"Look, we haven't been able to find useful information anywhere else." he said. "If this book knows something, then I think we should use it."

Hermione leaned forward. "You don't know anything about that diary. Without knowing exactly who made it and why, you can't be sure that it's telling you the truth. An enchanted book can lie just as easily as a person can. And with it pulling you into it... Harry, what if it pulled you in to show you something else and didn't let you back out again?"

Constance bit down on her lower lip. "If that's the book thrown at Moaning Myrtle's head, someone was probably trying to get rid of it." she said, thinking out loud. "It sounds too dangerous to mess with to me."

Harry looked a bit upset with them. But still, the fact that all of them were basically saying the same thing seemed to get through to him. He let out a deep sigh.

"Fine." he muttered. "I'll put it up somewhere, and I won't write in it again."

It was a small consolation. With everything else going on around the castle, they didn't need to be worried about him messing around with an enchanted book that randomly appeared. But still, it was strange that an object that knew about the Chamber of Secrets just happened to show up right after it was opened for a second time. It was possible that it was a coincidence, but it still gave Constance a weird feeling.

* * *

><p>When the weekend arrived, Constance and Hermione decided to resume their search for information on the monster that could be living in the chamber. Their previous expedition consisted of looking for any writings about the Chamber itself. This time, they changed their strategy and focused on looking through encyclopedias of magical creatures for anything with characteristics that fit with what they knew. Harry had Quiddich practice and Ron was going along with him to watch, so the girls headed down to the library on their own. Once they arrived, they headed directly to the 'Magical Flora and Fauna' section.<p>

"Alright." Hermione stated, her hands on her hips. "I'll start on this side, and you go through the other. Maybe by the time we meet in the middle, we'll have found something."

There was a huge collection in that particular section. However, anything that dealt strictly with plants could be excluded, cutting out a lot of books. It wasn't feasible to stand in-between the shelves to flip through an entire tome, so they would pick out an armful of books, take them back to one of the many reading tables, then replace them when they were finished to pick out more.

They must have gone through twenty-odd books before Hermione nudged Connie's arm.

"Look at this." she said, flipping her book around for her to see the page she was reading.

Constance put her own book down to study it. Hermione had found a chapter in her book about the basilisk. Her eyes got wider as she got further down the list of characteristics.

"It can't bear the sound of the cock's crow, and spiders flee before it." Hermione said. "All of Hagrid's chickens have been killed and the spiders in the castle have been acting strange since before that message was written on the wall. And judging from the illustration, it's basically a giant..."

"**Snake**." Constance finished for her. "That's why Harry has been hearing a voice inside the walls..."

Everything made perfect sense. The description of the basilisk fit almost everything they knew about what had happened thus far. But there was one thing Connie didn't understand.

"This says it kills by looking someone in the eyes." she commented with a frown. "But no one's been killed yet. Just petrified."

Hermione made a face. "I'm not sure about that either." she paused thoughtfully, then sat up straighter. "Maybe none of them saw it's eyes directly. Mrs. Norris could have seen it's reflection in the water that was all over the floor. Colin had his camera, and Justin... I don't know what stopped Justin from being killed."

Connie tried to think over how Justin had been found. He was laying on the floor, and Nearly Headless Nick had been floating right above him...

"Ghosts are transparent!" she said, figuring it out. "He could have seen it through Sir Nicholas!"

"That makes sense." Hermione admitted. "And ghosts are already dead, so they can't be killed again... It** has** to be a basilisk."

It felt wonderful to have finally figured out part of the mystery. If they knew what was attacking everyone, then they could better understand how to deal with it. There was just one problem.

"Hermione, if this thing can kill by looking at someone, how on earth can we avoid it?" she asked. "I mean... you could just round a corner and see it for only a second and you'd be dead. There would be no time to react."

The girl sitting across from her furrowed her brow. "I guess the best thing to do would be to carry a mirror to check around corners. If you saw it in the mirror, you'd wind up being petrified, but when it comes right down to it, I'd rather be petrified than dead."

_Excellent point._ She thought. It wasn't as good as finding a way to avoid the creature altogether, but it looked like that was their best option. With their mission completed successfully, they went about the tedious task of returning all the books back to their proper places. Constance picked up a stack of books from her side of the table, intending to find the shelf she'd pulled them from. When she turned around, she nearly ran right into Ginny. She was so surprised, she nearly dropped the books.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the younger girl exclaimed, reaching out to help her get control of the stack of tomes. "I didn't mean to run into you."

"It's fine!" Connie reassured her as she readjusted the books more comfortably in her arms. "I was just going to put these up."

Hermione came back around one of the bookshelves to retrieve another stack. She paused when she saw the red headed girl standing there.

"Oh, hi, Ginny." she said. "What are you doing down here?"

"I was looking for you, actually." she replied. Her feet shuffled against the floor, making her look anxious. "Do you guys know where Harry is?"

Constance and Hermione exchanged a knowing look. Ginny had that 'thing' for Harry, and always had to know exactly where he was at all times. If Hermione hadn't have done the exact same thing with Lockhart at the beginning of school, Connie would have found it scary. Maybe it was one of those things that came along with having a crush.

"He had Quiddich practice this afternoon." Hermione told her.

Ginny looked thoughtful. "Are you sure?"

They both nodded. "Ron was supposed to go down to the pitch with him to watch." Connie added. "They're probably done by now, but they usually stay out there for a few hours to play around. You might be able to catch them."

"Oh." she said, in a surprisingly calm sounding tone. "Alright. Thank you."

She turned on her heel to leave, but stopped just before she got to the door. The was a slightly worried expression on her face as she turned back around.

"Um..." she began haltingly. "Be careful out there." Without another word, she turned back around and walked out.

_What?_ Connie thought. Why would Ginny Weasley warn them to be careful? At her side, Hermione looked just as confused as she felt.

"Maybe she's just worried after what happened to Justin." she suggested.

Constance nodded in response. "Maybe."

* * *

><p>Reviews are beautiful, wonderful things! :D<p> 


	26. The Basilisk

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The moment the two girls got back to the common room, the twins practically jumped on them. Well, not jumped **on** them exactly, but they definitely gave them a shock.

"Jesus Christ!" Connie exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest. "What are you two doing!"

"What were** you two** doing?" They both shot back.

Both of the girls stepped back. The two of them actually looked concerned, rather than simply curious. Fred and George didn't usually bother asking about what they were doing or where they went. It was normal for them to work on things in the library if there was nothing else to do. Maybe they were just worried. After what happened to Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, everyone seemed to be more on edge.

"Doing research." Hermione reported.

"Ah..." Fred said. "So you guys haven't heard the news then."

Connie's brows furrowed. Had something happened while they were down in the library? "What's going on?" she asked.

"Malfoy's dad came in and had Dumbledore suspended." George told them.

Fred nodded. "And the Minister tossed Hagrid into Azkaban."

"**WHAT!**"

What the bloody hell was going on? Professor Dumbledore was booted out of Hogwarts, and Hagrid was put in **prison**? Connie didn't understand the logic of that at all. If it had something to do with the attacks happening at school, then those were the last two people who should have something done to them. Dumbledore couldn't control the Chamber being opened and was surely trying to figure out where it was to stop the creature inside of it. And Hagrid... Hagrid was the most trustworthy person on the grounds. She couldn't fathom why anyone would throw him in jail.

"Why?" Constance pressed. "What happened?"

"No one knows." the twins replied together.

"None of the students are supposed to know about it." Fred said. "But it's been trickling through the grapevine for a couple of hours."

Hermione looked absolutely shocked. "Do Harry and Ron know?"

"I have no idea." George told them. "They left right after practice. We thought they were coming back up here.

Well, they obviously weren't in the common room or the boys dorms. Someone would have seen them. Constance and Hermione looked at each other. After what they had just learned down in the library, it was worrisome that no one knew where Harry and Ron were. It was even scarier that Dumbledore and Hagrid were removed from the grounds so suddenly while there was a basilisk running around somewhere. With them gone... There was no logical reason why, but something about the entire situation made Constance feel a sense of urgency. Hermione looked like she felt the same way. Someone had to go out and find the boys – at the very least to tell them what the monster was so they'd be aware of it. Connie gasped as realization hit her.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed. "Ginny was asking about them. She'll be out there somewhere too."

Hermione's eyes widened, understanding her meaning. There was more than the boys to worry about. Fred and George looked back and forth between them.

"Alright, what do you know that we don't?" George asked pointedly.

Constance took a deep breath. There was no easy way to break this to someone, so it was best to just spit it out. "We found out what the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is." she told them. "It's a basilisk."

Both of them had crossed their arms over their chests to listen, but they immediately dropped them once she said the monster's name.

"**Excuse** me?" they said in unison.

"It's a basilisk." Hermione repeated. "We need to go out and find them. All of the attacks have happened at night and it's already dark outside."

The twins took the threat seriously. With them having to hunt down three people, a strategy had to be devised. Ginny had gone out to look for Harry at the Quiddich pitch long after practice was over. If Harry and Ron had left right after practice, then it was highly unlikely the three of them would be together. They all agreed that Fred and George would look for their sister, while Constance and Hermione would look for Harry and Ron.

"Here." Hermione said, using her wand to conjure up a set of mirrors. "Take one of these with you. The basilisk can't kill you if you only see it's reflection."

There was something about hearing that statement said aloud that made Connie's stomach twist into knots. Here they were about to go out on a mission to find their friends, and they all knew they might encounter something that could kill them. George took the mirror with a nod of understanding. As they were turning to leave, Constance grabbed his arm.

"Please be careful." she told him.

George looked back at her. You could tell something was serious when neither of the twins were smiling. He was worried. Both of them were. She really didn't want anything to happen to one of them.

"You too." he said, then went out with his brother.

The Quiddich pitch was on the Easternmost side of the castle, so the moment they were through the portrait hole, the twins veered to the left. Connie and Hermione thought that the most logical place for Harry and Ron to have gone was Hagrid's hut. That was on the open grounds near the Black Lake, in the opposite direction. It was slow going with having to check every corner with the mirror before proceeding, but they made it down to the second floor without encountering anything unusual.

"Why do you think they arrested Hagrid?" Constance asked quietly. "He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Hermione shook her head. "I have no idea, unless they think he's involved somehow. You know how he is about keeping dangerous things as pets."

That was a good point. But Connie sincerely doubted Hagrid would be stupid enough to attempt to keep a basilisk as a pet. They were slowly advancing down the hall, approaching another corner, when she heard an odd sound. She grabbed Hermione's arm to stop her.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

It was a noise that was completely out of place in the castle. A sloshing sound, like something large and heavy being dragged through water. That was **not** the sort of thing you wanted to hear when there was a giant snake around. From the nervous expression on her face, Hermione heard it as well. She leaned back a bit.

"Does it sound like it's coming toward us, or moving away?" she questioned.

Connie honestly couldn't tell. When water was moving around, it was hard to discern exactly what direction it was coming from. The stone walls surrounding them had a habit of enhancing sounds and making them echo – which didn't help matters much. She shook her head to silently indicate that she didn't know.

They remained frozen in place, unwilling and unable to move as long as they heard the wet dragging across the floor. Then, finally, the sound stopped. They both held their breath. It felt like a scene in a horror movie. When all sound dropped away to an eerie silence just before the monster popped out to grab you. But after several long moments of waiting, nothing rounded the corner to come at them.

"Maybe..." Hermione said haltingly. "Maybe it's gone away."

The girl stepped forward, acting like she was going to check around the corner with her mirror. Connie did not like the feeling rolling through her gut at all. Maybe it was the sound, or maybe it was the knowledge of what could have made it, but she **really** didn't want to find out if something was there or not.

"Hermione, wait." she whispered, reaching out to grab the back of her cloak. "Let's go back. There has to be another way down from here."

Hermione looked back at her over her shoulder. "If we double back, it will take us twice as long to get out of the castle." she replied. "This is the fastest way. If it's going away from us, I'll only see the back of it anyway."

She was actually going to do it. Constance was so nervous that her hands were shaking. Hermione pulled herself out of her grasp and stepped toward the corner. Using tiny, miniscule motions, she slid the mirror out so she could see what lay beyond. The girl went very still.

"Connie..." she whispered, making as little sound as possible.

The tone she was using told her enough. Holy shit, there was something there. Constance moved forward to pull her back. But just before she could get her hand around Hermione's elbow, there was a loud hiss and another wet dragging sound. Hermione's mouth dropped open as if to scream, but no sound came out. She just fell back and hit the floor like she was made of stone.

_Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god... _Constance's eyes snapped shut as something quickly whipped around the corner. Even without being able to see, she could still sense it right there in front of her. It was so close she could feel it's breath on her face. It smelled rancid. Like it had been crawling through a sewer. _It's eyes can't hurt me if I don't look at it. _She told herself. That wasn't very reassuring because a basilisk was a huge monster with extremely large teeth full of venom. It could swallow her whole if it wanted to. Or bite her and leave her to die a slow painful death. But the thing wasn't moving. It just stayed there, right in front of her, as if daring her to open her eyes. Waiting for her resolve to break. Hands trembling so much she worried about their usefulness, she fumbled around under her cloak until she felt the handle of her gun. She kept her movements as slow as possible, trying not to draw attention to what she was doing. God, she hoped this thing wasn't paying attention.

She had just gotten Persephone out of it's holster when the creature in front of her let out a angry hiss of pain. Constance couldn't feel it's breath anymore, so it must have fallen back. It still sounded incredibly close, so she didn't take any chances. Keeping her eyes closed, she jerked her gun up and fired two shots. Something hot and wet splattered across her face. The monster hissed again, then slithered back the way it had come. At least, it sounded that way.

Before she had a chance to move or register that the creature was gone, something grabbed Constance's shoulders. She screeched and lifted her gun again, fully intending to shoot whatever it was. As she squeezed off the trigger, her hand was forced upward. The bullet bit into the stone ceiling with a loud crack.

"Connie, it's me!" Mihnea's voice shouted. "It's gone."

Mihnea was there? She didn't wonder about how he had seen the basilisk and was still alive. She was too shocked by what had just happened. Connie's eyes shot open and she threw her arms around him.

"Oh my God..." she said, hearing her voice break as tears welled up. "It was so close." she pushed herself back. "How... how did you know..."

"I was coming down from the Astronomy Tower and I smelled it. I followed it down here." he told her.

She pushed herself back. "But it was a basilisk!" she exclaimed, not understanding. "How did you see it without dying?"

"I only saw it from the side." he said. "It was too busy staring at you to notice me. It didn't look my way until I shot it."

So that was why the monster sounded like it had been hit with something before she had a chance to shoot it. He must have closed his eyes when it turned it's head in his direction. She looked down and noticed he still had his gun out. When her eyes traveled further downwards, she noticed blood on the sleeves of his shirt. It was all over the floor as well. As she was taking in the large pools of it laying everywhere, Mihnea's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, studying her with worried eyes.

Connie blinked. "I... I'm okay." she told him. She gasped as she remembered the girl laying on the floor. "Hermione!"

She jerked out of her cousin's grip and ran over to check on her. She was laying there still as a statue, the mirror still clasped in her hand and mouth open in a silent scream.

"She saw it..." she murmured, then looked back at Mihnea. "We need to get a teacher."

They didn't need to stay out in the hallway now that they knew there was a basilisk nearby. Mihnea's eyes studied the petrified Hermione, then looked back at her.

"I'll go. You stay here with her." he instructed. His gun was placed back into the holster hidden under his cloak. "When I get back, if the teachers ask anything about the blood, just tell them that you were scared and pointed your wand at it. Your eyes were closed and you didn't cast a spell, so you don't know what happened. Do you understand?"

Constance nodded. She vaguely recalled her father telling her to shoot first, then make it look like a magical accident later. She slid down the wall to sit on the floor next to Hermione as Mihnea ran back the way he had come to find someone.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry." she whispered to her, not knowing if the girl could hear or not. Being petrified this way was different than being petrified with a spell. "I should have been the one carrying the mirror..."

Why couldn't she have just ignored Hermione and dragged her back to find another way down? If she had insisted enough, the girl would have broken down and agreed to it. Constance **should **have been the one checking around corners with the mirror. Everyone knew the monster in the Chamber was going after the muggle-borns. With Connie being a half-blood, maybe if the basilisk had sensed her first, it would have left them alone.

She heard footsteps coming toward them and suddenly realized that her gun was still out. She quickly shoved it back under her cloak just as McGonagall and Snape rounded the corner with Mihnea following right behind. The two teachers went still when they saw the massive amounts of blood and the two girls on the floor near the wall.

"Miss Stryker!" her head of house exclaimed as she rushed toward them. She crouched down and took hold of her shoulders. "Miss Stryker, are you injured?"

Constance shook her head. "No, ma'am. I kept my eyes closed." her voice broke again as she looked back down at Hermione. "Professor, it's a basilisk! No one knew where Harry and Ron were and we were trying to find them so we could warn them. Hermione was checking around corners with the mirror and she saw it, and... I **heard** it! I tried to tell her we should go back..."

Connie knew she was rambling, but she couldn't stop the words from spilling out. Professor McGonagall pressed her hands to her cheeks, then felt her forehead.

"She's in shock." the woman announced. "It's alright, Miss Stryker. Calm down." She rose from her crouch and turned to Professor Snape. "Severus, help me carry Miss Granger to the hospital wing. Mr. Bassarab, if you would please assist your cousin so she doesn't fall along the way."

Mihnea nodded and came over to help Connie get up from the floor. Professor Snape walked over and slid his hands under Hermione's shoulders, while McGonagall took hold of her feet. Carrying her between them, they began making their way down the hall. As she and Mihnea moved to follow, it became apparent that Connie had been affected by the event more than she thought. Her first few steps were clumsy and awkward. She was still shaking and it felt like she couldn't trust her limbs to carry her weight.

"We're never going to get down there like this." Her cousin said with a frown. "Put your arms around my neck and I'll carry you."

Constance didn't argue about it. She did as he instructed, and Mihnea put an arm under her knees to carry her the rest of the way down to the hospital wing.

* * *

><p>When they finally got downstairs, it became apparent why everyone was making such a fuss about her being alright. Connie got hold of a mirror and saw that her face and most of her clothes were covered in blood. She knew that her and Mihnea's guns left big holes, but she hadn't expected something to bleed that much.<p>

It was Snape who questioned her about the blood all over the floor upstairs. She fed him the story that Mihnea had come up with about her pointing her wand at it while her eyes were closed. The Potions Master looked like he found her explanation suspicious. It was uncommon, but entirely possible, for witches and wizards to perform magic unintentionally when frightened or particularly upset. But apparently the idea of her accidentally performing magic vicious enough to injure something that badly was difficult to imagine. McGonagall eventually got him to leave her alone about it. Considering the situation and what could have happened, such a strong reaction may have been the only way to force the monster to retreat, she said. However, the woman did give her a firm lecture about keeping her emotions under control in the future.

There was really nothing that could be done for Hermione. She would remain petrified until the Mandrakes were fully grown so a potion could be prepared. Since it was a weekend, Madam Pomfrey wanted Constance to stay in the hospital wing for the night to make sure that she fully recovered from the shock before going back to her dormitory. Because he was family and had been the one to find them, Mihnea was allowed to stay with her. Connie wasn't really sure why he remained, but she was glad all the same. It gave her a chance to actually talk to him.

"Are you still angry at me?" she asked quietly once the medi-witch had gone off to do something else.

Her cousin gave her a look. "Do you want me to be nice, or honest?"

The girl winced. If he had to distinguish between the two, then he was definitely still mad. She cleared her throat.

"What I said to you... I didn't mean it the way it sounded." she told him honestly. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are." he replied.

Her brows furrowed. "Then why have you been avoiding me?"

Mihnea sighed and pushed his dark hair back out of his face. "Because you're right and it pisses me off."

She stared at him. What on earth was he talking about? He noticed her expression and went on.

"I don't trust people, Connie. You know that." he said. "You never worry about what might happen if people found out who you really are. I have more than a name to worry about. And I don't like thinking about having friends, then all of them running away the second they found out what I was."

She knew that he had more on his plate than she did because he wasn't fully human, but she'd never heard him admit being worried about it. He always acted so confident. Like he didn't care what people thought of him. As she was musing over her thoughts, Mihnea glanced at her sideways.

"How far do you intend to go with Weasley?"

_Do what? _She thought, surprised. _How far... _Her mind immediately registered that as being a perverted comment.

"**Excuse** me?" she exclaimed, sitting up straighter in bed. "What is **wrong** with you!"

Her cousin made a face. "I didn't mean it that way and you know it." he said. "I'm asking how serious things are going to get with him."

"Oh." The clarification made her calm down a bit. "I... I don't really know." she admitted. "It's just been a month or so... Why? You don't like him?"

"I don't have anything against him personally." he told her. "I just haven't seen anything to convince me that he deserves you."

Oh, for the love of God. She'd been going out with George for a little more than a month, and Mihnea was already acting overprotective.

"I think I'm the one that gets to decide who does or doesn't deserve me." she said with a sniff.

"You like him."

Constance blinked at him. "Of course I do. I wouldn't have agreed to go out with him if I didn't."

Mihnea studied her intently. "You know you can't hide things from him forever. If this dating thing gets serious, you wont be able to keep such a big secret. So you better be damn sure this is what you want, because if you get attached and George Weasley ever breaks your heart, I'll kill him."

From the look on his face, Constance could tell he was serious. Not in a 'I'll kick his ass' sort of way, but a very literal 'I will rip him into pieces and watch the life fade out of his eyes' way.

"I'm not worried about that right now, and neither should you." she told him. "If it ever becomes an issue, I'll let you know." She gave him a serious look. "But you will not, under any circumstances, kill him or anyone else."

"Oh, fine." he said with a huff. "Could I at least break his nose?"

Connie thought about it. That sort of thing was far from a fatal injury. "Breaking his nose would be acceptable."

Mihnea looked her over, as if trying to figure out whether she meant it or not, then sat back and sniffed. "Good."


	27. Request

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next morning, Connie awoke to find four very worried looking boys huddled around her bed.

"What the bloody hell happened last night?" George demanded, looking upset and concerned all wrapped up into one.

"McGonagall told us you were down here, but wouldn't let us come until this morning." Fred added.

Ron and Harry exchanged a worried look. "What's with all the blood?" Harry asked. "It's all over your clothes!"

She was still half asleep, so it took her a minute to register what they were saying. She rubbed her eyes and pushed herself upright in bed. Mihnea wasn't there. Madam Pomfrey must have made him leave sometime after she fell asleep.

"The basilisk found us. I'm okay. None of the blood is mine." she told them. She glanced down at the stack of bloody clothes she'd changed out of the night before, then over at Hermione's bed. She didn't like the sight of her friend laying there frozen, so she looked away. "Ginny...?" she asked.

"She's fine." the twins said.

"We found her wandering around in the South Tower." Fred told her. "She's upstairs."

"Looked a little dazed and out of it." George said, still looking her over as if to make sure she was truly alright. "But she was okay otherwise."

That was good news at least. Connie turned her head and focused on Ron and Harry. "Where were you? We were trying to find you to tell you what it was..."

The two boys looked at each other. "We were down at Hagrid's when they came to arrest him." Harry said, looking around to make sure the medi-witch couldn't hear him. "Before Fudge took him away, he said something about following the spiders."

Ron made a face. "If Hagrid ever gets out of Azkaban, I'll kill him!" he hissed. "We followed them right into the middle of a **nest** of the bloody things. Talked to one as big as a bleeding house, and almost got eaten alive!"

_Holy hell..._ So Mihnea hadn't been exaggerating the size of the spiders. "How did you get out?" she questioned, her eyes wide.

"The car rescued us."

Constance blinked. The car they had stolen from Ron's parents had come back to save them from giant spiders? God, could things around here get any weirder?

"Follow the bloody spiders." Ron kept on, still muttering to himself about it. "I **hate** spiders. Why can't it ever be follow the butterflies?"

Fred and George exchanged a look. "Since when are butterflies ever involved in bad things happening?" they asked.

"Blimey, I don't know!" their brother exclaimed. "But once, just **once**, it would be nice to **not **have to run off to have a conversation with something that wants to eat you!"

As Ron commenced arguing with his brothers about the nature of which animals were most likely to take part in terrifying events, Harry cleared his throat, looking nervous about something.

"The diary's gone missing." he told her.

"**What**?" she exclaimed, sitting up straighter to stare at him. "I thought you hid it somewhere! How did it go missing?"

The Weasleys stopped arguing and Ron looked over. "Someone broke into our room and trashed the place. It was a royal mess when we got back."

If the diary was the only thing that had been stolen, then someone must have thought it was awfully important. She had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the Chamber and the basilisk, but couldn't be sure how the two were connected.

* * *

><p>Being in class without Hermione there felt so unnatural. The two of them always sat together and always worked on homework together in their room or with the boys. Constance found herself going to the hospital wing to visit her every day. Harry and Ron would bring flowers every so often to put in a small vase on the table next to her bed. When the old ones began to fade and wither, new ones would be brought to replace them.<p>

"How long do you think it'll be before they can make the potion?" Harry asked one afternoon during one of their visits.

Constance shook her head. She'd been badgering Professor Sprout about that to make sure she knew exactly when the required plants would be ready.

"Sprout says the mandrakes have another week or two to go before they're fully grown." she informed them. "They've just now started to sneak into each other's pots."

The boys went green in the face. "**EWWW...**"

That had been the girl's initial reaction as well. Those roots were ugly enough as it was without having to imagine them attempting to mate with each other. That was the sort of thought that would put one off of eating for a **very** long time. The consoling thing about that little piece of nastiness was that it wouldn't be very long before everyone would be fixed and back to normal.

Thankfully, there hadn't been any more attacks after Hermione. McGonagall, who was now acting as Headmistress with Dumbledore gone, had instituted a new rule that all students had to be escorted to and from classes and meals by a teacher. The moment classes were over, students were expected to return to their dormitories and remain there for the rest of the night. Their head of house was usually the one to act as a chaperone during their daily visits to the hospital wing. She knew all of them were good friends and didn't stand in the way of them checking up on her. However, this whole 'being locked up in the dorm' thing was quickly getting old. Once homework was finished, there was absolutely nothing to do up there. They couldn't even go outside to enjoy the sunshine and nice weather. Of course, Harry and Ron didn't let that stop them. Every afternoon, and stretching into the evening hours, there would be stretches of time where no one could account for where they were. They were probably out looking for more clues about where the damn Chamber could be and who had opened it. The only thing that kept Connie from going out with them was the promise she had made to her parents. Protecting herself when the basilisk attacked her and Hermione was one thing. After living through that, she had absolutely no desire to go out and risk encountering it again.

The one thing she could think of that would pass the time was to play cards. Fred usually spent his free time hanging out with Lee Jordan or chasing after various girls in their house, but George didn't mind the extra time spent with her. They couldn't really 'go out' to do anything, so teaching him how to play muggle card games was the next best thing to an actual date. After he mastered the game of gin rummy, Connie moved on to instructing him in the rules of poker. He immediately took a liking to it because it involved gambling. She'd figured as much.

"So I only increase the bet if I think my hand is better than yours?" he asked, peering at her over the top of his cards.

She nodded as she studied her own hand. "That, or you can do it to bluff your opponent into folding." out of the corner of her eye she saw him cock his head to the side, so she went on. "Sometimes, if you don't have a great hand, you can make a really high bet to trick the other players into thinking it's better than it is." she explained. "If someone thinks that they're going to lose, they'll fold and drop out of the game to keep from losing more money."

Of course, that sort of strategy was usually implemented in a game with several players as a way of weeding people out. Constance set two cards down and drew to replace them. She had a set of three sixes and was pretty sure it was a good hand. She placed 3 extra sickles in the middle of the table.

George met her bet, and raised it by two. "Do you want to come to my house over the summer?"

Connie paused in throwing out two more sickles. "You want me to come visit your house?" she asked, making sure she had heard him correctly. The question had come out of nowhere and it took her by surprise.

"That's usually what 'coming over to my house' means, isn't it?" he said teasingly. "Mom wants to meet you."

The girl blinked. "Oh my God, you've told your **mother** about me?" she asked. That was kind of scary. "What on earth have you said?"

He shrugged. "Just that you're pretty, you're really smart, and you like to beat me over the head with random objects."

He shot her a mischievous grin over his hand and Connie's mouth dropped open. "You did not!" she exclaimed, reaching across the table to pop him on the head with her cards.

"Ow! See? You hit me all the time!"

"Only when you deserve it, stupid." she shot back. "And quit whining. Being hit with playing cards does not hurt."

George made a face. "Oh yeah, I told her you were bossy too." he added.

Constance was absolutely horrified. At the rate this was going, he was going to have his parents thinking she was an overbearing, abusive psycho bitch or something.

"**Bossy**?" she asked. "I am not bossy!"

"Yes you are." he retorted. "You do it all the time." he raised his voice to a falsetto tone to mimic hers. "We're studying right after Quiddich, so don't be late, George. Don't you dare blow up a cauldron in potions today, George. If you lose any more points, I'm going to kick your arse, George."

The girl just kept staring at him. If he hadn't been acting so playful about it, she would have found it insulting. She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed.

"I'm not that bad." she muttered.

"Oh really?" he asked, sitting back in his chair. He pulled out a small, pocket sized notebook and flipped it open. "See? It's right here. You were bossy no less than thirty-six times last week."

"You actually write it **down**?" she questioned, gaping. "What kind of freak keeps track of that?"

"This kind of freak, that's who." George replied, pointing to himself. The notebook was placed back into his pocket and he put his elbows on the table to rest his chin in his hands. "So, do you want to come?"

Connie turned her head to the side and stuck her nose up into the air. "I'll think about it."

The boy pouted. "Please? I'll make sure we have strawberries and everything."

She never should have told him about the damn strawberries. That was his way of coaxing her into doing things. Constance wasn't really sure what to think about this whole 'meeting the boyfriend's parents' thing. That had... implications attached to it. Mihnea's warning while she was in the hospital had gotten her thinking. Was this really what she wanted? The fact of the matter was that both of them were still young. She was thirteen, and George had just turned fifteen. Relationships at this age rarely turned out to be something that lasted forever. But... if she were truly honest with herself, she liked him. She liked him a lot. George Weasley was funny, smart, and seemed to know all the right things to say and do. Well, maybe he didn't say or do the right things **all** the time, but he did seem to know when she wasn't in the best of moods and could figure out exactly how to pull her out of it. It helped that he was actually good looking and could pull off being goofy without making himself look like a complete idiot. He listened and paid attention to her, didn't blow things she said off as being stupid, and he treated her with respect. Always playful and mischievous of course, but he never pushed things too far. Her father would like him, she decided. She could imagine the two of them getting into a debate about which explosive materials were better than others.

But no matter how much she liked him, she still felt torn about how close to get. Was it safe for her to get invested? And if it wasn't, would it be cruel to him to get attached then break things off? For now, their 'relationship' for lack of a better word was based entirely on fun. They enjoyed each other's company and got along well. Truthfully, it felt like they were just a small step up from being good friends. But if it got more serious than that... God, this was getting complicated very fast.

Across from her, George had set down his cards to study her. "Uh oh. You're doing that thing."

Connie blinked. "What thing?" she asked.

"That thinking thing." he replied, pointing at her. "You go all quiet and look like you're trying to figure out how to keep from getting caught in a trap or something."

The girl's brows knitted together. Did she really look that way? "I'm figuring out logistics." she told him.

One of George's eyebrows went up. "Uh huh." he said, sounding like he didn't believe the excuse. "You've got to be the most complicated person I've ever met. I can wait."

She blinked at him again. "Wait for what?"

"For you to clamming up as tight as a drum every time I try to get close to you."

Did she really do that? Constance knew that she was being cautious, but she hadn't thought about it looking like she was 'clamming up'.

"I... I'm sorry." she told him, not sure how to handle this sudden change in conversation. "I didn't realize I did that."

George shrugged. "I didn't think you did." he said. "And it's not a big deal. Just something I noticed." he paused, his expression changing slightly. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. It was just an offer."

Now that just made her feel worse. He was asking her to come visit him over the summer holiday, and he looked so crestfallen at the thought that she might not want to. Constance didn't like the sinking feeling that was beginning to curl up in the pit of her stomach. She **did** want to go to his house. It was just a really complicated situation. Her bottom lip found itself buried between her teeth. A complicated situation that she couldn't explain for the sake of making him feel better. She wasn't rejecting him, but he looked so down... but maybe it wasn't the best thing to do... but...

_To hell with it. I deserve to have something for me. _"I'll have to ask my parents." she told him, caving in. "I don't know what sort of plans they have for the summer. If they say it's alright, then I'll come."

It would be interesting to see what the Burrow looked like in person. Her owl had been there so many times, the idea of what it might be like prickled the imagination. With it being the home of a huge family, it was bound to be an fascinating place. And probably a bit chaotic if Fred and George made their home there. And it looked like her statement had just made George's day. His whole face brightened up and he gave her a wide smile that looked like happiness mixed with a tinge of relief.

"Awesome! Well, it's kind of small, but we're used to making room for lots of people so it shouldn't be a big deal." he began, going into a detailed description of his house. "There's the poltergeist in the attic that likes to bang around, but you get used to it after a while. And we've got this big garden outside with this pond that's full of frogs..."

It was both sweet and funny to witness this new excitement in him. She might have to get on her hands and knees to beg for it, but she was going to get this visit. It sounded like it was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>A.N: I apologize for not updating the past couple of days. Last weekend was really busy. Enjoy!<p> 


	28. Dumbledore's Instructions

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

After what seemed like forever, the mandrakes were finally mature enough to be used in the potion to cure those who had been petrified. No one was sure exactly how long it would take to brew the concoction, but there was a hopeful feeling rushing through the air at the knowledge that fellow students and other members of the castle would be returned to normal. Everyone was talking about it over supper.

"How are they supposed to harvest the mandrakes if their cry can kill a person?" Neville wondered out loud.

Connie was wondering about that herself. Earmuffs could protect against the screams of the young plants, but the older ones were loud enough for the sound to get past them. Professor Sprout had only taught them about how to raise and tend to mandrakes, but hadn't covered how to harvest them. As everyone was throwing out different ideas of how it might be done, she noticed Professor McGonagall walking toward their table.

"Miss Stryker." the woman said once she arrived. "Please come with me."

Constance blinked. She had no idea why McGonagall would be pulling her off somewhere. She couldn't recall doing anything that would have gotten her in trouble... She shot a baffled look at all of her friends, then rose to follow the woman out of the Great Hall.

"Um..." the girl began once they were out in the hallway. "Professor? What is this about? Am I in trouble for something?"

"Certainly not." McGonagall replied. "Everything will be explained once we get to my office."

That was... strange. If she wasn't in trouble then what on earth was going on?

As was the case with most of the teachers' offices, McGonagall's was located just down the hall from her Transfiguration classroom. It was a sizable room, with the furniture arranged to make the most economical use of the space, making it look open and larger than it actually was. It wasn't very long after they arrived that Professor Snape walked in with Mihnea in tow. This was getting odder by the minute. The boy looked just as confused as Connie felt. He didn't know what was going on either. McGonagall gestured for everyone to sit down in the remaining chairs that were open, then stepped behind her desk and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Bassarab and Miss Stryker, did Professor Dumbledore happen to speak to either of you before his departure from the school?" she questioned as she sat down.

_What? _Connie wondered. What reason would he have for talking to them? She and her cousin exchanged a mutual look of bewilderment.

"No, ma'am." Mihnea replied for both of them.

The woman sighed. "I suspected as much." she pulled open one of her desk drawers and retrieved a small envelope. "As I'm sure the two of you are aware, Professor Sprout's mandrakes have reached full maturity and are ready for harvesting. Before the headmaster's unexpected suspension from his position, he left very clear instructions that he wished for the two of you to assist in brewing the de-petrification potion."

Connie's eyes widened. "**What**?" she exclaimed. "But... why?"

"The headmaster's letter indicated that the two of you have experience in working with the highly advanced brewing techniques which would be required for this potion." Snape informed them in his deep, silky tone. He gave Constance a look. "This particular potion requires a silver cauldron. There are no such cauldrons here of sufficient size to brew enough for everyone who has been petrified. Professor Dumbledore specifically mentioned that you had a large, silver plated cauldron in your possession which would be more than adequate to meet our needs."

_Wow. _The girl thought. When she first received her Christmas present, she hadn't imagined that it would cause her to get recruited by teachers to do something like this. McGonagall took in both of their expressions.

"From what I understand of the brewing process, the potion must be carefully watched at all times." she told them, looking at Snape as if to confirm that was correct. When he inclined his head, the woman went on. "It simply isn't possible for Professor Snape to brew it himself due to his teaching schedule. Therefore, the two of you will be excused from attending classes until the potion is completed. The mandrakes you will need for this potion must be collected by the persons doing the brewing so beginning tomorrow morning, Professor Sprout will assist you in harvesting."

Mihnea studied the professor for a long moment, then cleared his throat. "Professor McGonagall? It's an honor to be asked to do something like this, but... I'm a fourth year, and Connie is a second year. Wouldn't it be better for one of the seventh year students to work on this?"

McGonagall gave Professor Snape a look. It seriously seemed that the two of them didn't fully understand why Dumbledore had given the directions he had either.

"To be perfectly honest, Mr. Bassarab, I would normally be in agreement with you." she told him. "However, Professor Dumbledore's instructions were very plain. He believes very strongly that the two of you are the most appropriate candidates. The headmaster is a very knowledgeable man and he always has a reason for what he does."

Her cousin glanced at her sideways, and Connie immediately understood the guarded look in his eyes. Dumbledore knew about their family. He knew that they received lessons in things that ordinary witchcraft could never hope to touch or understand. Perhaps he thought that would give them an edge to ensure the potion would be successful. Either way, there wasn't much of a choice in the matter. If the potion to cure the people laying in the hospital wing was going to be brewed, they had to be the ones to do it. Constance thought about Hermione. She still felt that her getting petrified was somewhat her fault, so this could be her way of making amends – even if it was only with herself. She took a deep breath.

"When are we supposed to meet Professor Sprout?" she asked.

"She has an open block first thing in the morning." McGonagall informed them. "You will meet her in the Great Hall at seven o'clock. She will escort you to the greenhouses from there."

The Potions Master rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and interlaced his fingers in front of him. "I suggest you bring your cauldron and any other supplies you may need with you." he said, giving both of them a serious look. "You will set up a work area in the back of my classroom where you will be out of the other students' way. Once you begin the potion, you will not be allowed to leave until it is finished. I will give you a thorough list of instructions and monitor your progress between classes. Do you understand?"

Both of them nodded.

"Very good." McGonagall stated from behind her desk. She pushed her chair back to stand up. "Make sure to get a good night's sleep tonight, because tomorrow is going to be a very busy day for you."

With the meeting over, both professors took up escorting their students back to their common rooms. Mihnea went off with Snape toward the dungeons, while Connie followed McGonagall up to Gryffindor tower. She was supremely thankful she'd actually had time to eat before all of this. As they walked down the hallways, the girl found herself wondering about the logistics of practically moving into a classroom. If they wouldn't be able to leave until the potion was completed, then they'd have to work out some way of sleeping in there. She really hoped Snape would let them drag over a table to lay on, because she was **not **about to sleep on the floor in the Potions classroom. With all the botched potions that leaked or spattered during every one of his classes, there was no telling what was on the floor that hadn't been cleaned up completely. The thought alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Professor McGonagall bid her a good night outside the Gryffindor common room and made another comment about making sure to sleep well. Constance assured her she would, then stepped through the portrait hole to go inside. She wasn't overly surprised to find that Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen. They were probably out snooping again. But she did catch sight of Fred and George over in a corner working on something with their buddy Lee. Constance wasn't sure what it was, but knowing them, it probably wasn't homework. They'd probably pulled him into the middle of their 'Wheezes' thing to get more ideas. She wasn't really keen on giving an announcement of what she would be doing to the entire house, but someone had know so the boys wouldn't freak out about her not being around for however long this potion brewing would take.

As she approached their table, she saw Lee elbow George in the ribs, then heard him whisper something about 'Miss Bossy Pants is coming'. Jesus, that boy was awful. When the hell had they started calling her that?

"I heard that." she said once she got to the table.

Lee pouted at her, as if to show he was just making a joke. She just shook her head at him, then cleared her throat.

"Listen, I'm not here to get in the middle of whatever 'guy thing' you're doing, but I just wanted to let you know that McGonagall and Snape have me working on something, so I'm not going to be around for a while."

All three of the boys blinked at her. It definitely got their attention.

"Do what?" George asked, turning around in his chair to look directly at her. "Working on **what**?"

"They asked Mihnea and I to help brew the de-petrification potion." Connie explained. "I don't know how long it's going to take, but Snape said once we get started, we're not allowed to leave the potion until it's done. I wont be in any of my classes, and I'll have to move into the Potions classroom until this is over with."

Fred and George's mouths fell open.

"Move into Snape's classroom!" Lee exclaimed.

"You mean you have to** sleep** in there?" Fred questioned. "That is **nasty.**"

Constance wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I know." she agreed. "We're supposed to start harvesting mandrakes early in the morning, so I don't know if I'll see Harry or Ron to tell them. Could you guys make sure they know so they don't go into a panic when I'm not in class?"

They all looked at each other. "Yeah." Fred replied. "We'll tell them. Where are you off to then?"

"I'm going to bed." she told him. "I'll have to be downstairs by 6:30 if I'm going to get any breakfast."

Connie turned to leave and was walking toward the stairs to her dorm when she heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back.

"Hey, wait up a second!" George called out. She turned back around to find him coming toward her. "How long are you going to be working on this?" he asked her.

"I have no idea." she told him honestly. "Snape made it sound complicated, so it could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. I wont know until he gives us instructions tomorrow."

He didn't look the least bit happy about that. She wasn't quite sure if it was because she'd be down in the dungeons for that long, or if it was just that she wouldn't be around to do things with him.

"We'll be set up in the back of the classroom, so it's not like you wont see me at all." she told him, hoping that would make him feel a little better about it. "Depending on where we are, I might be able to throw something at you."

For once, George actually didn't smile at the joke. "I'm more worried about you being locked up in the dungeons by yourself at night while there's a basilisk in the castle." he said.

Was he going all protective on her? That was... unexpectedly sweet. She coughed back the sudden feeling of dryness in the back of her throat.

"I won't be by myself." she told him. "Mihnea will be there. And I've heard Professor Snape practically lives in his office just down the hall. If anything were to happen, he would know about it as soon as we did. The teachers wouldn't have arranged this if they didn't think it would be safe." she paused and looked around before leaning forward to drop her voice to a whisper. "The basilisk is controlled by the heir of Slytherin. The Potions classroom is in the Slytherin section of the castle, so it's not very likely that it will be roving around down there."

George gave her a look. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Constance wasn't quite sure what it was. Maybe it was the notion of him looking out for her and being worried that gave her such an odd feeling in her stomach. Whatever it was, it made her stand up on tip toe to give him a small kiss. Just a peck really, but it was enough to thoroughly shock him. When she pulled back, George was blinking at her like it was the last thing in the world he expected her to do. Then his whole face brightened and he got this big, goofy looking grin. At the table behind him, Lee stuck his fingers in his mouth to let out a wolf-whistle, and Fred was beaming like an idiot.

"It's about bloody **time**! Go Georgie, go Georgie, go Georgie!" he chanted, doing this weird dancing motion in his chair.

Connie's cheeks turned bright pink and she glared at them. "Shut the hell up you damn fool!"

They were still laughing in delight as she turned on her heel to march up the stairs that led to her room. Once she got inside and closed the door behind her, the full realization of what happened fully hit her. She'd kissed George Weasley. And it was... nice. Very nice.


	29. The DePetrification Potion

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Harvesting mandrakes was a shockingly disturbing process, considering how conservative the magical world tended to be.

After getting a spot of breakfast, Constance and Mihnea met with Professor Sprout as planned. She escorted them down to the greenhouse containing the assortment of plants they'd be working with. There were about thirty-seven pots in all, and they would have to pull the roots out of each and every one of them. Connie hadn't seen the mandrakes since that first lesson on them. Rather than the smaller pots they had dealt with, these things were nearly waist high. Mihnea had no problem with carrying his pots on his own, but Constance and Professor Sprout had to work together to carry theirs out of the greenhouse to set on the lawn outside. Once they had them arranged in a neat, straight line, Sprout began explaining how they would go about ripping out the roots without getting themselves killed.

Essentially, they had to dig around the roots just enough to loosen them up without actually exposing them, tie a rope just above the top of the root, then fasten the other end around their waists and run away from the pot as fast as possible. Sprout gave them specially fitted earplugs just for this purpose. The idea was that the sharp jerk of the rope being pulled would rip the mandrake out of it's pot and sever it from the top of the plant – which would 'kill' the root and prevent it from making any sound.

"Alright, now make sure you have your earplugs in good and tight before you start running." Sprout instructed. "As these roots are fully grown, hearing the smallest bit of sound will kill you."

That was an absolutely horrifying thought. This was the sort of thing that had to be done perfectly the first time. There would be no second chances. Both of them pushed the earplugs into their ears as tightly as possible, and Sprout gave a good yell to ensure they couldn't hear a thing. Once she was satisfied that all was in order, she put in her own set of earplugs and motioned for them to commence harvesting. Mihnea went first. He sprinted down the lawn and ripped the root of his pot right out, severing the top off perfectly. Constance had a bit more trouble. Even with loosening the earth around them, the roots strongly objected to being forcefully removed from their homes. One had to break into as fast of a run as possible to generate enough force to get the plant out. On her first try, Connie wound up struggling when she reached the end of her rope, straining to keep going forward. She did finally manage to pop the root out, but the top of the plant didn't sever completely. It was the scariest and saddest thing she'd ever seen. With it being only half attached to the top of it's plant, her root writhed around like it was in horrible pain before eventually going still like it was dead.

When they were finished pulling out all the mandrakes, Sprout explained what had happened.

"The roots live off the energy produced by the top of the plant." she told them. "If the upper part is severed quickly, the root expires without feeling any pain. When the top is only partially removed, it takes much longer for the root to die and it suffers much more."

Well, that was just lovely, wasn't it? This whole time they'd been murdering plant roots, and her first attempt had basically made the plant suffer a slow, painful death. That was a wonderful thing to have on one's conscious.

Needless to say, with the sheer size of the things, carrying thirty-seven mandrake roots into the castle was going to be a chore. Connie shoved as many as she could into her silver cauldron, and Mihnea stacked up the rest to carry in his arms. They were dense roots, and turned out to be quite heavy. When Snape showed up to take them down to the dungeons, the girl had to struggle to walk in a straight line while lugging around the huge, weighted down pot.

They got down to the Potions classroom, and Snape pointed to a place at the back of the room that was cleared out for them. There was a large round table set low to the ground with a hole cut in the middle to provide an opening for the flames that would heat the cauldron. Two low sitting chairs sat on either side and up against the wall was a cot that was raised up off the floor. _Thank God._ Constance thought the moment she saw it. They wouldn't have to worry about asking Snape about moving his furniture around so they would have a place to sleep.

He then gave them the instructions for brewing the potion. The mandrake roots had to be chopped up into small pieces and boiled for several hours until they changed from a rich brown color to a pale white. The root pieces would then be strained out and the process would continue with the same liquid until every last one of the roots had their essential properties boiled out of them. The process of chopping and boiling alone would take two full days. After this 'base decoction' was completed, the second phase of brewing would begin. This involved adding measured amounts powdered unicorn's horn and finely ground mastic every thirty minutes for a 72 hour period. The potion would then have to be kept just under a boil for 48 hours and given a good stir every fifteen minutes, then the process would start over again. After going through this cycle three times, they would then have to carefully watch the potion, letting it simmer until the liquid was reduced down to something milky white in color, with the thick consistency of honey. Following the recipe he gave them, the potion would take approximately 20 days to complete. It was no wonder the two of them had to stay near it at all times. It had to be watched constantly to ensure it remained at the right temperature. Even a small deviation of two or three degrees could be disastrous. The unicorn's horn and mastic had to be ground by hand, then added at precisely the same time. With it having to be stirred so often, they would have to sleep in shifts so someone would always be awake to perform the next required step.

They decided to focus on chopping up all of the roots first to get that unpleasant task out of the way. It would probably take all day with the number of plants they had, but it was best to just go ahead and do it all at once. Once they finished boiling them down and got to the more serious business of brewing, they'd work out a schedule for sleeping and breaks and such. Constance was very glad she'd brought all her new books along with her. Otherwise the waiting and stirring bit was going to be incredibly boring. The only thing about the whole situation she understood as being an 'advanced brewing technique' was the infusion of their personal magic into the potion as they went along. The mandrakes had to be harvested by them because they wouldn't function properly if they were touched by someone else's influence. The unicorn horn and mastic they used had to be thoroughly cleaned before they ground them up – to wash away the magical influence of anyone who had previously handled them. That sort of thing was probably a theoretical idea that wasn't covered in school. Something you had to learn through trial and error, or through an apprenticeship and many years of study with a master after completing the basics covered at Hogwarts.

"I'd be willing to bet money that Dumbledore talked to mom and uncle Edmund about this." Mihnea whispered to her as they were cutting up the first set of roots. They had to be quiet so they didn't disturb the fifth years who were working on their class assignments.

Connie's brows furrowed. It **was** an odd coincidence that Aunt Syn had sent her a cauldron that just happened to be made of the right material and was the perfect size for the task. Dumbledore knew they had been taking lessons on theories and practices like this since they were little, so it made sense that he would have taken steps to ensure they would be the ones to do it. Their parents knew how they were, so they probably figured the best way to keep them out of more serious situations was to provide the means for them to get involved in a different way.

* * *

><p>You didn't really appreciate the pleasure of being able to go out and about to do things until you were confined to a single room for weeks on end. After eighteen days of living in the Potions classroom, Mihnea was about ready to shoot himself in the head. The students who came in for classes could simply do their assigned work, then leave. He and Connie had to stay put. He could tell his cousin was bored as well, but Potions was her niche. She loved doing it and that took the edge off for her. It probably helped that when her friends were in class, they would toss balled up scraps of parchment with messages written on them toward the back of the room so she could read them. But while he was good at Potions, it wasn't a subject he particularly fawned over. Being stuck within the same four walls all the time felt like being in jail. He did <strong>not<strong> like it. It made him nervous. The weekends were worse because no one came in to provide a distraction except for the times when Snape popped in to check on their progress.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Constance commented, watching him pace back and forth. "There's only two days left, then we can get out of here."

It might actually be less than that, considering they were were down to the final reduction process. But after three weeks of being stuck in here, there would be only seven days until final exams. Even with excused absences, that was a lot of work to make up in such a short amount of time.

"They could have at least had someone send assignments down for us to work on." he said, still walking. "Making all this time up is going to be a nightmare. Do you know how much work I'm going to have to do in Rhabdomancy?"

The girl blinked. "Excuse me? What the hell is that?"

"It's a class in dowsing methods."

She blinked in confusion again. "Mihnea, why on earth are you taking a class in **dowsing**?" she questioned. "Couldn't you find anything you wanted by using your powers?"

He gave her a look. "Not everything." he told her. "I had to pick two extra classes third year, and it looked interesting."

It was also peaceful because hardly anyone took it. There were only five people in his class. The small amount of students seriously cut down on the level of noise.

His cousin took in the information and sniffed. "Well, at least we weren't petrified. Colin missed half of first term, and all of the second and third." she pointed out. "Everyone down in the hospital wing is probably going to have to work over the summer to make everything up." her shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug. "It's better than having to go to Lockhart's class."

_Good point. _He thought. Mihnea glanced over at the cauldron positioned above the burners. Constance had been on watch duty for a while now, so it was probably getting close to time for him to take over. She wasn't the least bit resistant about giving up her job. After taking up a chair next to the table, he picked up his bag and dug through it. _Damn it. _His blood supply had run out, and he hadn't paid attention. Feeling like a caged animal made him forget small details like that.

"Hey, Pixie." he called out, seeing her curled up on top of one of the desks.

His cat didn't like being left by herself for long periods of time, so she had snuck down to the classroom not long after they'd holed up there. Since there wasn't much for her to do, she wound up sleeping a lot. The one time she bothered to get up and move around was when the house elves brought meals to them. Pixie was not about to give up her habit of begging for people's food. She lifted her head and looked at him.

"Go to the dorm and get the bag with the blood bottles in it." he instructed.

Pixie cocked her head to the side, then jumped down from the desk to run off. Once she was gone, Connie cleared her throat.

"This might sound really gross, but this whole smelling girls' blood thing..." she paused, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, does mine ever bother you?"

The boy made a face. That was definitely something he did not like thinking about just on principle.

"We're related, so it doesn't work the same way with you." he told her.

Thank god, because that would be an awful thing to deal with. Of course, he wasn't related to aunt Integra by blood, but his dad made it sound like being around someone for long periods of time – such as growing up in the same house with them since infancy – got him used to the smell, so it didn't affect him. Her not being a virgin helped considerably as well. Constance's expression changed to a momentary one of relief, then she studied him.

"George asked me to come to his house over the summer." she told him.

Mihnea paused, then glanced at her sideways. "Why are you telling me that?"

"Because I didn't want you to throw a fit when you found out about it later." she replied.

He didn't like it, but she was probably right. He would have been pissed if he hadn't known about it before hand. If she was telling him about this, it meant she was considering it.

"You're going to go, aren't you?"

"Well, I have to ask mom and dad about it first, but if they say it's alright, then yes. I'm going." she told him.

Mihnea took a deep breath. He'd already said his piece about the situation, and wasn't about to repeat himself. Connie knew full well how he felt about it.

"I'm not going to say anything." he said.

"Meaning you don't like it."

"I **said **I wasn't going to say anything." he replied a bit more forcefully than he intended. He noticed Constance arch a brow and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. "It's too fast."

"Too fast?" she asked, looking confused and irritated at the same time. "I thought I was moving pretty damn slow considering we've been dating for about six months, and we just recently kissed..."

The boy went very still and narrowed his eyes at her. That was **completely** unacceptable. Weasley was going to die and that was the end of it. He could put up with this whole 'dating' thing, but anything involving touching and kissing was out of the question.

"The second we get out of here, I'm going to kill him."

Connie's eyes went wide. "No, you're **not**!" she exclaimed. "I was the one who kissed him, so there's absolutely no reason why you should be mad at him."

He stared at her in horror. She had been the instigator? That was almost worse than Weasley doing it. Mihnea shook his head and held up a finger.

"Don't ever tell me about things like this." he told her. "I do **not** need to know. Ever."

If she was the one who initiated something, then he couldn't really get upset about someone taking advantage of her. But the knowledge of it wasn't something he wanted to have.

"Have you even told aunt Integra and uncle Ed about this... **thing** yet?" he asked.

His cousin narrowed her eyes at his choice of words. "Of course I have."

"And?"

The only reason he was asking was because he was curious as to what his aunt's reaction would be. Connie noticeably paused, thinking, then cleared her throat.

"Dad said that he wasn't surprised and was wondering when something like this would come up." she began. "And mom... well... she didn't say anything **bad**. Just that she would trust my judgment. But dad said something about her throwing a fit about 'being too young for this nonsense'."

Mihnea couldn't help it. One of his brows slowly traveled upward. "I could have told you that."

"She didn't mean me, idiot." Constance snapped. "Mom said that **she** was too young for it."

"Oh."

The boy suddenly got a mental image of his aunt going off on a long winded rant about how all the stress of getting older was giving her wrinkles and gray hair. Connie was probably going to be thoroughly interrogated when they got home.

Of course, aunt Integra wasn't the only one who was too young to be dealing with things like this. Mihnea was having trouble processing it as well. He hoped Pixie got back with his blood soon, because he was going to need a lot of it to get through the next two days.

* * *

><p>A.N: From the legends I've read about the mandrake, the way Sprout instructs them to harvest the roots is a traditional method. Though, technically, you're supposed to tie the rope to a dog and let them do all the work, but the mandrake's cry would kill them. I didn't think Hogwarts would be very keen on killing thirty seven dogs to harvest a set of plants when there were special ear-plugs around. Cause, you know, Hagrid would throw a fit about that when he got out of jail, and emotionally distraught half-giants carrying pink umbrellas with mysterious magical properties aren't the safest sort of people to have around. :P<p> 


	30. Beginning of Suspicion

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The moment the de-petrification potion was completed and Snape declared it to be satisfactory, Connie and Mihnea took it up to the hospital wing. Someone must have given Filch a heads up because he was in there waiting for them, fully prepared to throw a fit to ensure Mrs. Norris got the very first dose. Once the cat was taken care of, they set about measuring out some for Sir Nicholas. Connie wasn't sure how it would work since ghosts tended to pass through solid objects. But surprisingly, the potion slid down his throat just like it would with a living person. The students had the hardest time with returning to their original states. The de-petrification process was a slow one. Once the potion was administered, it took about 30 minutes to fully unlock and relax all the muscles in the body. Given that each of the victims had been frozen for weeks or months on end, they had to be given accessory potions by Madam Pomfrey to help them with the pain of moving. Being laid up for that long would make anyone's joints and muscles stubborn and sore.

The moment Constance was certain Hermione was back to herself, she surged forward to wrap her arms around her in a tight hug. "Oh, I've been so worried!" she said, then pulled back. "Do you remember anything?"

The girl shook her head. "Only the eyes... Everything was black after that."

So it must have been like being in a coma or something, Connie thought. But it didn't really matter anymore. Hermione was de-petrified, and everyone was back to normal. At least, as close to normal as one could be after going through such an experience. Madam Pomfrey instructed her to return to the other side of the room. She'd have to stay out of the way while the medi-witch led the recently restored students in a series of stretching exercises to help their bodies remember how to move properly. It was as this was going on that Professor McGonagall came in, leading a very rough looking Ginny Weasley behind her. That was how Constance and Mihnea found out that all hell had broken loose while they had been locked up in the dungeons.

Another blood message had been found on a wall, claiming that a student had been taken into the Chamber and would be killed there. After conducting a thorough sweep of every house, the teachers discovered that it was Ginny who couldn't be accounted for. Lockhart, being the false braggart that he was, claimed that he had figured out the location of the Chamber ages ago. The teachers gave him the assignment of rescuing the young Weasley girl. Harry and Ron had somehow found out about it. No one knew any details beyond that, but apparently something huge had taken place inside the Chamber. The boys had brought Ginny and Lockhart back with them and the DADA professor seemed to have no memory of who he was or what had happened down there. Harry was covered in blood and bruises, as if he had been in a huge fight, and Ron was a bit roughed up himself. The two boys were up in Dumbledore's office, receiving awards for 'services to the school'. Once Madam Pomfrey finished examining Ginny, Connie and Hermione questioned her about it to figure out exactly what had happened. Mihnea stayed back out of the way, but he was still paying attention to everything that was said.

The information they gleaned from the girl was shocking. The diary – that mysterious object that gave all of them the willies - had apparently been created by Voldemort himself when he attended school. His name had been Tom Riddle back then. When Ginny first encountered it amongst her schoolbooks, she had somehow been controlled or possessed by the book. It forced her to open the Chamber and release the basilisk on the students, though she never had any full memory of the events afterwards – only vague suspicions of what may have transpired during her blackouts. Afraid of the power contained within the diary, she attempted to get rid of it, only to learn that Harry had found it. That had been why she was asking where he was that day she and Hermione had been researching in the library. It hadn't been just a girlish crush thing. She wanted to be sure he was out of the castle so she could break into their room to steal it back. After she'd opened the Chamber a final time, the diary began pulling all the life energy out of her. The weaker she became, the stronger Tom Riddle grew, until he was actually able to pull himself out of the book like a specter that had been locked within it. The girl would have died had Harry not shown up to put a stop to it. He fought the basilisk and killed it, then used one of it's fangs to destroy the diary itself. Apparently, he had been bitten by the fearsome creature during their battle, but Dumbledore's pet phoenix showed up to heal him. It then used it's ability to carry large amounts of weight to get all of them out of there.

When she was through explaining, Hermione and Constance could do nothing more than blink at her in complete shock.

"Holy **hell**." Constance murmured.

This whole thing had been a lot more serious than what they had gotten themselves into last year. Working their way past three headed dogs and through enchanted chess games was one thing. Slaying a basilisk was something entirely different. And Harry had done it all on his own. The girl knew he was brave to the point of being careless sometimes, but she never would have expected him to be able to do something like that. An adult could have fought a basilisk and been killed by it. For a twelve year old boy to have killed it and survived was... **extremely** impressive.

* * *

><p>Mihnea's concern about missing so much time in class turned out to be unfounded. After everything the student body had endured, Dumbledore canceled final exams as a school treat. It seemed their final grades wouldn't be calculated until the students who had missed classes made up the work over the summer. Connie had finished the first set of summer essays on potions, and would have to do another set this summer to make up for skipping the second year class. The three weeks of absences would be added on top of them. Snape had a specific schedule made up for the work she turned in to him, but the other classes could be worked on as slowly or as quickly as desired so long as they were finished by the end of summer. Constance decided she would do as much work as possible to try to get everything out of the way. If she could complete the assignments quickly, she'd still have the end of summer to enjoy.<p>

During their talk with the headmaster, Dumbledore had given Ron a set of release papers to send to Azkaban to get Hagrid out of the awful place. He was released from custody and was able to get back to Hogwarts in time for the end of term feast. It was wonderful to have him back. The entire student body wound up rising from their seats to give him a standing ovation when he walked through the doors of the Great Hall.

After all their things were packed up and brought down to the common room for the house elves to take down to the train, Connie and her friends got the shock of their lives. The house elf that had been torturing Harry all year in an attempt to get him to leave school popped up out of nowhere to talk to him. The creature looked at Harry like he was something worthy of adoration and worship.

"Dobby is so glad he was able to catch Harry Potter before he left for home!" he exclaimed. "Dobby wanted to thank him for all he did for him!"

Harry held up his hand to calm the house elf. "Um... thank you, Dobby, but I didn't really do anything..."

But the house elf wouldn't hear it. "Mr. Harry Potter is too humble, sir! He tricked Dobby's former master Malfoy into presenting Dobby with clothes! Dobby is free now, sir!"

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. He glanced between the house elf and Harry. "The house elf that's been going after you all year belongs to the **Malfoys**?"

Harry nodded. "Lucius Malfoy was the one who put the diary into Ginny's cauldron." he told them. "You remember. That day at Diagon Alley when he and Draco showed up at the bookshop?"

So there had been some sort of confrontation between the Malfoys and the Weasleys at Diagon Alley? Connie hadn't been there to see it. But that did explain how the book had wound up in Ginny's things. If this creature had come to Hogwarts, it had probably done so against it's master's wishes. That was remarkable for a house elf. She had only seen the ones that worked at the school, but she knew from things she'd read that a house elf was always faithful and obedient to the family it served. Most would put up with being treated like garbage and wouldn't say a word about it. Dobby must have been treated horribly to inspire him to defy his master and give Harry a warning... Harry turned his attention back to the house elf staring at him in adoration.

"What are you going to do, now that you're free?" he asked.

Dobby looked taken aback at being asked such a question. "Harry Potter shows concern for Dobby?" he asked, his overly large eyes tearing up. "Mr. Harry Potter is such a wonderful wizard! A liberator and friend to the house elves!"

Harry took half a step back and had to grab hold of an armchair to keep from being knocked down when the creature wrapped itself around his legs. "Dobby, please! Calm down. I'm just asking a question..."

Dobby seemed to regain control of himself and let go of him. "Dobby had no place to go, sir. But Master Dumbledore found Dobby and said he could live and work at Hogwarts. Master Dumbledore even said he would pay Dobby! And he has given Dobby a wonderful new pillowcase, sir!"

He puffed out his chest to show off the pristine white pillowcase he was wearing with the school crest emblazoned on front at his right shoulder. It was amazing that Dumbledore actually thought to offer a house elf wages. The creatures were never paid for their services.

"Dobby wanted to return Harry Potter's sock to him." he went on, reaching behind his back to retrieve a black sock. "Mr. Harry Potter was so kind, and Dobby did not want to keep something that belongs to him..."

Harry studied the sock for a moment, then shook his head. "You keep it." he told the elf. "I have plenty of socks..."

"Harry Potter will let Dobby keep his sock!" Dobby exclaimed with wide eyes. "It is a wonderful gift! Dobby will cherish this sock always!"

"Um... okay..." the boy said, looking like he wasn't sure what to think of such a strong reaction. "You do that Dobby."

Since Dobby seemed to worship the ground Harry walked on, he took over taking his luggage down to the train to be loaded up. As a bonus, he came back and got Connie, Ron, and Hermione's trunks as well. He wouldn't be waved off or convinced otherwise. When all their belongings had disappeared from the room, Hermione looked completely befuddled.

"Why was he making such a fuss about Dumbledore paying him?" she asked. "Surely with as much work as they do, house elves are given wages..."

Ron stared at her like she'd just grown a second head. "Pay a house elf?" he questioned. "Why? The whole purpose of a house elf is for them to work. No one's ever paid one before."

"But that's slavery!" the girl said, shocked. "You can't treat them that way!"

"Try telling that to the house elves." Ron said with a shrug. He pointed over to the spot where Dobby had been when he was talking to Harry. "That's the weirdest one I've ever seen. Most get upset if you even thought about paying them something. They **like** what they do."

Hermione didn't like hearing that one bit. She and Ron argued about it all the way down to the carriages that would take them to the train station.

* * *

><p>Since she had been forthright and written back home about everything that had transpired during the school year, Connie's parents weren't overly upset about what had happened. However, they were understandably concerned about the person behind it all. Given that it was the second time the dark wizard Voldemort attempted a comeback, everyone was trying to figure out the significance of it. When they got home they ate a short supper, then moved to one of the conference rooms to discuss everything they knew. Alucard and Pip were out with the soldiers on a mission, but Seras was there with them. Holding a meeting in a conference room rather than just talking about it over the dinner table meant it was a serious matter. It also meant that there were probably documents and reports they wanted the children to read which couldn't be shown in other parts of the house for security reasons. If there were written reports, then Hellsing was getting involved somehow.<p>

"It has something to do with Potter." Mihnea said. "I heard Dumbledore telling Snape that he needed him to stay at the castle because he'd need to call upon his 'particular talents' now that Harry has returned to the magical world."

Aunt Syn gave him a look. "Are you spying on your professors now?"

"I wasn't spying." he insisted. "I was restocking Professor Snape's storeroom and I just happened to overhear them talking about something interesting."

Constance cleared her throat to bring the conversation back on subject. "Well, considering that Voldemort was defeated when he tried to kill Harry, that's not really surprising." she told them. "But how is it possible for him to keep coming back? I mean, supposedly he died when his curse backfired eleven years ago. His spirit was released from Quirrel when Harry faced him last year but if it came back in that diary, then it's been killed again. Harry destroyed it down in the chamber."

"It sounds like this Voldemort was getting into a lot of extremely dark magic." Edmund said, looking thoughtful. "There are ways to separate the soul from the body and split it into pieces to survive death. Dumbledore seems to think that's what happened."

The children exchanged a look. "I told you they were talking to Dumbledore!" Mihnea exclaimed, looking vindicated.

"I never disagreed with you." Connie pointed out with a sniff, then looked back at the collection of adults. "Why are you guys talking to Dumbledore anyway? I can understand talking to him about the stuff going on at school, but Hellsing doesn't get involved in things that happen in the magical world..."

Everyone looked at Integra. Constance's mother was the boss here, and she had final say in every decision made. The knight took a long drag of her cigar, then tapped the ashes off into an ashtray sitting on the table in front of her.

"Edmund, give them the reports we've confiscated."

_Confiscated? _Why would they have any need to do that? They only confiscated reports when an authority refused to cooperate with them and the Queen had to issue a royal order to have the documents handed over. The Hellsing Organization was a powerful, influential group, so it rarely occurred. Everyone knew they would get what they wanted in the end, so it was in their best interests to cooperate from the get go. Connie's dad passed a stack of documents to them. Seeing as how there were several, she took half and Mihnea took the other. As the girl read them, she saw that every single one of them detailed vampire attacks on families throughout Britain. None of the documents explicitly stated that vampires were responsible, but it was pretty obvious from the autopsy reports. But these cases were handled by local police forces rather than being turned over to Hellsing as they should have been. What the hell was going on?

"There is a reason why things have been so quiet for us lately." Integra said. "There have been an extraordinarily large number of cases which were never reported to us. Do you notice anything peculiar about the dates?"

Mihnea studied his documents. "The earliest one is from..." he paused and looked up. "This started during Connie's first year at school."

Aunt Syn pointed at him. "Precisely." she glanced at Connie. "That would have been your friend Harry's first year too, right?"

Constance went very still. _Holy hell._ Voldemort hadn't made any known attempts to come back before their first year at school, and vampire attacks hidden from Hellsing had begun at the same time? That was too strange to be a coincidence.

"How did you find out about this?" she asked carefully.

That was when Seras finally piped up and joined the conversation.

"We all thought something strange was going on, but didn't have any proof of it." she said. "But then, a couple of months ago there was an attack in the middle of London. The police authorities here have worked closely with us ever since the war, so they reported it. We responded to the call and were hunting down two vampires when these... **people **showed up. They weren't members of any police force or military group anyone knew of. Now, Pip and I were off tracking the vampire, so we didn't see this ourselves but when we got back, the soldiers told us these people intercepted them. Said they had jurisdiction and we had no right to be there. Several of our men had injuries from some sort of altercation and had their memories erased." the draculina's eyes narrowed. It was easy to tell she was pissed about it. "**Completely **erased. They didn't know anything about what had happened, or who they were anymore."

Constance's eyes went wide. "Do you think the Ministry of Magic sent aurors?"

"We don't think anything, Connie." her father replied. "We know it for a fact. The Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on muggle society through contacts in the Prime Minister's office. They have been taking steps to ensure that Hellsing doesn't find out about these attacks and when anyone resists or questions them about it, they obliviate them. The Prime Minister himself has had his memory erased several times. The only reason we were able to track down all these police reports was because Syn and I figured it out and diffused the spell so he could remember everything again."

Mihnea glanced down at the documents in his hands for a moment, then looked back up. "They're covering something up." he said, then frowned. "But... the Ministry doesn't get involved in dark creatures attacking muggles. That's always been our job."

Connie's mother sat back in her chair. "Which is precisely why we're so interested in what's been going on at that school of yours." she told him, then gave them both a look. "If everything we've been told is accurate, then Voldemort was at the height of power while Millennium was operating and after the war, he slowly lost his influence over the magical world until he was 'destroyed'."

Aunt Syn put her hands on the table and leaned forward slightly. "That's not the only thing." she said, then glanced at her son. "Do you remember the chocolate frog cards you brought home after your first year at school?"

The boy nodded, his brows furrowed.

"What were the list of accomplishments on Dumbledore's card?"

"He did research on Alchemy with Nicholas Flamel, discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and he defeated the dark wizard Grindlewald in..." he stopped and stared at them, his face going a shade whiter.

"1945." Constance finished for him, realizing where this was going. "The end of World War II."

"So what we have here is a pattern of dark wizards in the magical world who's power rises and falls in conjunction with the rise and fall of the Nazis." Edmund stated plainly. "Because our families have been exiled from the magical world, we didn't have this information before. There was enough of an overlap between what was happening in their world and ours that any attacks they made on muggles would have been attributed to Millennium. But the Nazis were creating artificial vampires – which was probably helped along by magic – and were using weapons we know had magical properties. They couldn't have done any of that on their own. Someone in the magical world had to be helping them. If Voldemort is attempting to come back, then there were probably members of Millennium who survived and are helping him do it."

"But I thought Millennium was completely wiped out?" Connie questioned, not liking the way this sounded.

"We killed all the members of Millennium who were involved in the attack on Britain." Seras replied. "But there were masses of them who attacked countries all over the world. We can't account for any of those that may have survived."

That was... horrifying. There were too many pieces that fit together. Too many things that made sense for it not to be true. She glanced sideways at her cousin. His expression was blank, but his eyes looked disturbed. Constance hadn't been born until after the whole thing with Millennium was over and done with, but Mihnea had lived through it. He had been an infant at the time, but there were things he remembered. Things that still bothered him to the point they gave him nightmares.

"If Voldemort ever manages to come back, there's going to be another war." he said quietly.

His mother nodded. "That goes without saying. There's going to be a war in the magical world regardless. But if he was allied with Millennium and they have agents who are helping him now, then it's going to spill over into our world as well. When that happens, we're going to be the ones who have to deal with it."

Integra cleared her throat meaningfully. "I intend to arrange a meeting with the Minister for Magic to deal with the current issue of his aurors getting in the way of our operations. We don't have enough proof to accuse them of anything more than that. For the time being, the two of you are the only ones here who can move about the magical world freely. Voldemort appears to be focusing on your school, so keep your eyes open and remain vigilant at all times. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, report it back to us. We need to be as prepared as we can possibly be for anything that may come our way in the future."

Constance and Mihnea exchanged a look. "You want us to be spies?" her cousin asked.

Constance's mother sniffed. "Considering you've been doing it since you were babies, we may as well take advantage of it now." she said. It was a serious tone, but Connie could sense the touch of playfulness hidden underneath. "The two of you are already better experts at it than most adults are."

Wow. Even though the situation was a serious one, it was... nice that they were going to be trusted with something this big. Connie was already absolutely certain that there would be more incidents of Harry and her friends getting into something they probably shouldn't be – which meant she would be involved in it one way or another. At least now she knew she wouldn't have to worry about hiding it.

Not that hiding something from her parents ever worked. They always found out in the end.


	31. Meeting Arrangements

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Hellsing rarely had to do anything with the Prime Minister's office. Since Integra was a member of the Round Table conference and reported directly to the Queen, there was never any need to go to a lower level. However, the magical world, along with the rest of the populace, believed that Her Majesty was simply a figurehead the people wanted to keep as part of their identity. It was a great way to keep the higher levels of government activity a secret. The Queen had direct control over all organizations that ran black operations units. Any time an incident was important enough to keep the details secret from common society, she was the one to give the orders. Even though everyone knew about the existence of Hellsing, there were still plenty of things they had to keep hidden for safety's sake.

With the Ministry of Magic only going through the Prime Minister's office on muggle affairs, that was the place they had to go to arrange a meeting with them. They usually kept a friendly, if slightly uneasy relationship with the magical world. But after the recent actions taken against them and the knowledge that the Prime Minister had been obliviated on several occasions, they were pissed enough to be more forceful than usual. Since there would be a representative of the magical government present, Edmund couldn't go. They had to ensure that there would be no way for the true identities of their children to be discovered. Syn went along to serve as an accessory representative of Hellsing and a bodyguard for Integra. Once the meeting itself was arranged, they would be the ones to go to the Ministry of Magic as well.

"I thank you for taking the time to see us, Prime Minister." Integra said, once they arrived at his private office.

The man smiled and took her hand to shake it. "It was no trouble at all, Sir Hellsing." he told her, then frowned slightly. He lowered his voice so only they could hear him. "It's a serious business, what they have going on. I want to see this taken care of as much as you do."

It was understandable he would feel that way, considering those people had manipulated him to hide information he had every right to know. He sat down behind his desk, while Integra and Syn took seats across from him. There was another man present as well. A distinguished looking man with ebony skin and colorful robes. He had to be from the Ministry. Only a wizard would dress in such an outlandish manner. The Prime Minister cleared his throat.

"This is Mr. Kingsley Shacklebolt." he told them, introducing the guest. "He is our liaison with the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Shacklebolt, this is Sir Integral Hellsing and Miss Syn Newsom from the Hellsing Organization."

Shacklebolt inclined his head and took each of their hands in greeting. Syn was surprised that he wasn't shocked or disturbed by her name. Most wizards reacted to her presence with fear, not a show of respect. Once introductions were over, they began the serious discussion of arranging some sort of meeting with the Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt told him that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, would agree to a meeting with the stipulation that representatives of certain departments within the Ministry be allowed to attend to provide their input. Integra agreed that such a thing would be acceptable. They often had to deal with other organizations they met with doing the same thing.

"I feel I must warn you, Mr. Shacklebolt, that considering the nature of the conversation we'll be having, I have no intention of walking into the Ministry of Magic without protection." Integra told him, using a respectful, yet firm tone to show she wouldn't budge on the matter. "I realize the Newsoms have been exiled from your world, but Miss Newsom is the member of my organization with the most experience in magic. She will be coming with me to serve as a bodyguard."

It was a small lie, seeing as how Edmund had just as much experience in using magic as she did, the redhead thought. But neither of them were about to admit that to a wizard. The man considered her statement and looked at Syn thoughtfully.

"I wont insult you by lying, Sir Hellsing." he said in his deep, smooth voice. "There are a lot of people in the Ministry who are going to be upset about that. But... if she is your only means of magical protection, the Minister **might** agree to it." he paused to address Syn directly. "If Minister Fudge allows you to come, he may require you to wear a restrictive collar to remove your magic."

Before the redhead had an opportunity to make a comment, Integra interrupted. She didn't look the least bit happy about that.

"What would be the point of me bringing a bodyguard capable of protecting me from magic if you're going to force her into restraints that will make her useless?"

Shacklebolt gave her an apologetic look. "I'm very sorry, Sir Hellsing." he told her. "I don't like it much myself, but the magical world has an irrational fear of the Newsom family. Miss Newsom will only be allowed to enter the meeting chamber if the Minister is certain she would be unable to attack anyone." He paused with an expression that showed that he understood the knight's objection. "I may work for the Ministry, but there are many things they do that I don't agree with. I will do my best to help you, but I can't guarantee anything."

That was surprising to say the least. Neither of the women had expected to encounter someone willing to help them. Syn leaned over to whisper in Integra's ear where Shacklebolt wouldn't be able to hear.

"Nothing they put on me would work." she told her. "Sorcery overpowers witchcraft. I would still be able to use magic if I had to."

Integra turned her head and looked at her seriously. "Are you absolutely **certain** of that, Syn?"

The redhead nodded. "I would swear it on my life. Their magic doesn't work on me."

The knight studied her, thinking it over, then nodded. She turned back to Shacklebolt. "If the restrictive collar is necessary, we will consent to it."

The man looked somewhat relieved. Syn couldn't be sure if he understood that their objects wouldn't affect her or not, but it would give him something he could use to make sure she'd be allowed to go. After a few minutes of discussion, they came up with a time both parties would be available. The meeting at the Ministry would be held in three weeks time. As the discussion came to a close and the two women stepped out of the Prime Minister's office to leave, Shacklebolt stopped them.

"Sir Hellsing." he said quietly, capturing their attention. He glanced around, as if making sure no one else was listening. "I know Albus Dumbledore very well. He has close friends within the Ministry who will be attending this meeting." he looked back and forth between them. "That man is an **excellent** judge of character, and he's rarely been wrong. If he trusts you, those of us who are his friends will as well. You wont be entirely on your own. There **are** people who will fight for your rights if we have to."

It seemed the headmaster of Hogwarts had more influence than they expected. Perhaps this meeting with the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be as messy as they expected it to be. Hopefully, if they had enough people to side with them, they'd be able to fix this mess faster.

* * *

><p><em>Connie, Mom and dad won a contest put on by the Daily Prophet. We're going on a two week vacation to Egypt! Should be loads of fun with all the pyramids and tombs out there. We talked everything over, and Mom said you could come over once we get back and stay with us for a week if you want. Hermione will be here too. Ron hasn't been able to track Harry down yet but if he ever gets him, he can come as well. Percy's supposed to come with us to Egypt, but he's moved out to London for the summer to be closer to the Ministry. You girls will have your own rooms while you're here. (Me and Fred have taken over the attic to make our merchandise. Got to have plenty of room so our beds don't catch fire.) Do you know how to floo? Dad's got connections at the Ministry, so he'll be able to set up Hermione's fireplace to let her come through. He can get one hooked up for you too if you need it. Get all your stuff packed and floo here at 3:00 pm on the 30th so we'll know to look out for you. Watch out for the table though. It's right in front of the fireplace. If you aren't used to flooing, you might fall out and bang into it. Our letters from school are supposed to come sometime while you're here, so we could meet up with your family at Diagon Alley for them to take you home when we're done getting supplies. <em>- George

_P.S. I've hidden all the books so you wont have anything to hit me with. And mom is supposed to go out and buy strawberries._

_Just so you know, he put all the books in the attic. _-Fred

_That's a damn lie. _- George

Connie read through her letters from the Burrow in amusement. She could always trust in Fred to tell on his brother. She was glad to hear there was a plan in place for this visit. Everything up until now was just a list of maybes. Supper was going to be starting soon, so she figured she could give the letter to her parents then so they'd know what was going on. When she got downstairs, everyone was already down there. Apparently, learning the details of her little visit was interesting enough to capture the vampires' attention as well.

Her mother quirked a brow when she looked over George's letter.

"He had to hide the books so you wont hit him?" she asked.

Constance felt her cheeks warm. "He says I beat up on him all the time." she explained. "But I only do that when he really deserves it."

Aunt Syn beamed. "Keep that attitude. If you give a boy an inch, they'll take a mile." she said, then glanced over to get a look at the letter. "Do you have a picture?"

The girl had come prepared, thinking at least one of them would ask about it. Before leaving school, she had tracked down Colin and asked him to take a picture of her with all of her friends. She passed the photograph over to her aunt and pointed George out.

"That's him." she said.

The redhead studied it, then elbowed Seras in the side to get her to look at it. "Ooohh... he's **cute**." she announced with an approving grin. "And an **identical** twin! You never said anything about them being identical."

Seras stared at the photograph. "Good lord, it's a whole army of gingers!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed?" Alucard questioned, looking interested – which wasn't necessarily a good thing. "How **delightful. **I've always had a preference for the taste of redheads."

Aunt Syn's head immediately shot up and a teacup went flying across the table. It shattered when it hit the side of the vampire's head. "Shut your fucking mouth, you evil bastard!" she screeched.

Connie's mother narrowed her good eye at her. "Syn, please restrain yourself from breaking my china."

The redhead sobered. "Sorry, sir." she said, then went back to the photograph. "So, do they ever try to switch up on you?" she asked Constance

"They used to." the girl replied. "They stopped when they figured out I knew how to tell them apart, but they still do it to everyone else. Their mother makes them sweaters with their initials on them, but they switch them around to keep people confused about who is who."

"I zhink zhat's a twin zhing." Pip said thoughtfully. "My younger brozhers were identical twinz, and zhey alwayz did zhat."

Connie had heard stories about Bernadette's younger siblings. He and Seras had to visit his family as part of a mission to retrieve important documents during the war with Millennium. It was tragic they'd all been killed not long after the two of them left to return to Hellsing, but it was obvious the Captain had many fond memories of them.

"Did your brothers finish each other's sentences and constantly get into trouble too?" she questioned.

"Oui!" he replied immediately. "I'm telling you, twinz are wired different up 'ere." he pointed to his head. "I zhink knowing zhat zhere's two of zhem instead of juzt one makes zhem a little crazy."

Seras frowned and reached across the table to give him a good smack on the back of the head as he was twirling his finger next to his ear. The captain instantly dropped what he was doing and rubbed the spot where she'd hit him.

"Jezus Christ, Mignonette!" he exclaimed. "Why do you alwayz do zhat? Cool eet, woman!"

Alucard rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers in front of him, quirking a brow at the scene. "Are you going to let him talk to you that way, Police Girl?"

"Certainly not!" the draculina said, then gave Pip a stern look. "If you can't be nice, I'll be sleeping in my own coffin instead of sharing yours."

"Excusez-moi!"

"You heard me."

Pip's mouth fell open and his expression changed to a puppy dog eyed look. Aunt Syn shot a glare at Alucard.

"Do you **have **to encourage them?" she asked, looking annoyed.

The master vampire just grinned at her. "But of course." he said in a silky tone. "Watching the children argue is so much **fun, **little goddess."

The redhead's eyes narrowed. "That's it! Where's my spoon?"

Alucard held up one of his fingers. "Ah, ah, my dear." he chided. "I believe the agreement was you may only castrate me with that spoon of yours if I cheat on you."

"I didn't say a damn thing about castration." she spat. "I intend tobeat your ass with it."

"Oh, really?" he asked, his eyes lighting up. "Is that a **promise?**"

Constance's mouth dropped open while Mihnea groaned. The boy clamped his hands over his ears and banged his head against the table. Integra finally got fed up with the bickering going on and slammed one of her hands down on the table.

"That's enough out of all of you!" she snapped, giving every last one of them an icy look.

Everyone simpered down after that, though Alucard, being the way he was, still had that wide grin of amusement on his face. Edmund just quirked a brow at the whole thing and reached over to press a hand against his wife's back.

"Calm down." he told her softly. "You know you're supposed to watch your blood pressure."

Connie's mother shot him a look, but she did sit back in her chair and take a deep breath to calm herself. For all of her dad's bad habits, Constance knew that Edmund had a way of getting through to her mom when he needed to. Once everything was somewhat back to normal, he took the letter to read over it himself.

"It sounds like you've got yourself an interesting boy here." he said, glancing at her over the tops of his glasses. "What's this about making merchandise?"

"Oh, Fred and George have this plan to open up a business one day..." she began.

"A** joke** shop." Mihnea piped up, pulling himself upright once more. He made it sound like it was something to be ashamed of.

"**Yes**, a joke shop." she said, shooting him a look that told him to shut up. "Anyway, they've been inventing all sorts of different things to sell. A lot of it is brilliant stuff that no one has ever thought of doing before. If they ever get themselves set up with a surplus, they'd make a lot of money at it."

Her father rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So they're entrepreneurs?" he questioned. "That's not bad for kids their age. At least they have a plan."

She had to hold in a sigh of relief. That small show of approval made her feel better. "So..." she began, prodding at them. "Is the 30th okay?"

Integra seemed to think about it. "I don't see a problem with that..." she looked back down at the parchment. "They want you to floo there?"

Her mother didn't know what flooing was. Constance had heard about it, but had never done it herself or seen anyone else do it.

"I'm not sure how it works, but it's something about traveling by fireplace." she said.

Mihnea cleared his throat. "I've flooed to different places in the castle from Snape's office." he reported. "You have to have floo powder to do it and the Ministry has to set up a connection. If you floo from here, they'd have to know where we live."

"Oh, no they don't." Aunt Syn said quickly. "There are ways to get around that." she looked over at Edmund. "We can come up with something to get you there without going through the Ministry."

_Thank God. _Connie thought. Going through the Ministry meant someone finding out who she was, and that was too dangerous. Especially with her mom going there soon to argue with Fudge about what they'd been doing. As she was thinking about that, she realized something.

"Um... your meeting at the Ministry will be while I'm at the Burrow, won't it?" she asked.

Her mother nodded, then studied her. "Why? Is there something I need to know about?"

Constance took a breath. "I'm not sure what department he's in, but Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry of Magic."

All the adults gave a noticeable pause and looked amongst each other. She could almost imagine what they were thinking. If he was at this meeting and they found out that Mr. Weasley was against them, then her dating one of his sons and being friends with the other siblings was going to become awkward very fast.

"At least we have advance warning so we'll be prepared." her mother said. She returned the missive to Connie so she could place it back into it's envelope. "If you're going to be staying with them for a week, then you have packing to do." she told her. "And I imagine Syn and Edmund will need to start work on this flooing business so you'll have a way to get there."

Her father and her aunt both nodded. It shouldn't take them too long to come up with something. They were both brilliant with inventive magic like that. Now that everything was arranged and confirmed, all that was left was to get her things together and count off the days before she left.


	32. The Burrow

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Alright, you're sure you have everything?"

Constance nodded. "Everything is in here." she said, gesturing to the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Even my potions stuff."

It was 2:54 in the afternoon. She was supposed to leave for the Burrow in six minutes. Her mother had already bid her goodbye and wished her a good week. She had a conference to attend with the other knights of the Round Table and there was no telling when she would be finished with it. Aunt Syn was going through a last minute checklist with her.

"Very good." the redhead said. "Keep your phone on you and remember to call us the second you get there so we'll know you made it through."

"Yes ma'am." the girl said with a sigh. "And keep it with me so you can get in touch if anything happens here."

Honestly, everyone was acting like she was going off to the moon or something. But even though she'd been off to school for the better part of a year, this was the first time she'd ever gone to a friend's house. Or a boyfriend's house. That made her think of something.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, glancing down at her clothes.

She'd chosen pull her hair back into a loose braid and wear jeans with a nice sleeveless top, but maybe it was too casual. If she was going to be meeting George's mother, she wanted to be sure to make a good first impression. Her aunt smiled knowingly.

"You look fine." she told her. "Calm down. Mothers are a lot easier on girlfriends than they are on boyfriends. Be polite and mind your manners. She'll like you."

Connie certainly hoped she would. This visit wasn't going to be very pleasant if Mrs. Weasley found some reason to disapprove of her. But she supposed it was too late to be thinking about that.

Next to his mother, Mihnea narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "You make sure Weasley knows that if I find out about him sneaking into your room, I'm going to kill him."

Syn gave him a soft pop on the back of the head. "Leave her alone." she chided. "You're not going to kill anyone." the redhead gave him a look, then glanced back toward the door. "Hurry up with that powder Edmund! You're going to make your daughter late!"

"Keep your knickers on, woman!" he shouted back. "I'm coming!"

Connie's dad finally finished up whatever it was he'd been doing with the makeshift floo powder they'd cooked up and came into the room.

"I think I've got the mixture right." he announced. He gestured for her to hold out her hand, then poured a small amount of powder into it. It looked like a pile of ash. "Alright, step into the fireplace, say where you want to go very clearly, then drop this right in front of you. You might want to hook your bag over your head to make sure you don't drop it."

Using her free hand, Constance did as she was instructed. The last thing she needed was to show up without any of her clothes. She stepped toward the fireplace, then turned back around, taking a deep breath.

"We'll meet up with you at Diagon Alley in a week?" she questioned, confirming the plan.

Her father nodded. "Go to the Leaky Cauldron." he told her. "Call to let us know about what time you'll be there. If we're running a bit late, just hang around until we get there."

She could definitely remember that. Her watch read 2:59. It was time for her to go. Taking another breath to calm her nerves, she climbed into the fireplace and held out her arm in preparation to drop the handful of ash.

"Wish me luck." she said, then straightened her shoulders. "The Burrow!"

When she let go of the powder, the effect was instantaneous. It felt almost like there was a rope connected to her navel that jerked her forward and dragged her along some invisible pathway. It went too fast for her to see anything around her. All she knew was that one moment she was standing in the fireplace in the manor's sitting room, and the next she hit the ground with a hard thud and rolled out onto a wood floor she'd never seen before. She winced and clutched at the back of her head when she knocked into something hard. It looked like a kitchen table.

"I told you to watch out for the table." A familiar voice commented. "You knock anything important loose in there?"

Constance looked up to find George was propped up against the table next to her. Still rubbing the back of her head, she took the hand he was holding out and allowed him to help her up off the floor.

"Jesus Christ, that was **awful**." she said, making a face. "How on earth do you stand doing that?"

"What, flooing?" he asked. "It's always rough the first time. You get used to it after a while."

The girl didn't know how on earth anyone could get used to such a thing. It was an unnatural and disconcerting feeling to be pulled along so fast you couldn't see where you were going. She pushed the thought out of her mind and peered around at the room. It looked like she was standing in the middle of a country kitchen. Bright sunlight streamed in from windows around the table and over the sink. A set of cabinets attached to the walls around the stove were white with the paint cracked and chipping off in places, giving them a distressed look. It was a small room but there was a warm, cozy feeling about it. It was also a lot quieter than she would have expected.

George noticed her silent appraisal of the room. "It's not much." he admitted. "But it's home."

"It's rather nice, actually." she commented, still looking around. "Very homey. Where is everyone?"

"Mom's gone out shopping with Ginny and Hermione hasn't gotten here yet." George reported. "Fred and Ron are upstairs changing the sheets on the beds." he pushed himself back from the table and stepped over into the doorway to shout up what had to be a staircase. "Connie's here! Hurry it up, will you!"

Since he was over there anyway, Connie took the opportunity to walk over to satisfy her curiosity about what the rest of the house looked like. The kitchen led out into a small open area that served as the entrance to the staircase leading upstairs. Across from them was what looked like a small sitting room with worn, comfy looking furniture. When the girl finally looked up the staircase, she was absolutely shocked by the sight of it. The steps were uneven and rickety looking, and it appeared that they went on forever.

"Holy hell, how many floors do you guys have?" she exclaimed.

"Six." George replied. "Seven if you count the attic." he glanced back up and took three steps up the staircase to call out again. "It doesn't take that long to change bloody sheets! What are you doing up there?"

Ron leaned over the railing of what looked like the second floor landing, while Fred's head popped out from the third.

"Hey Connie!" Fred shouted, giving her a wide grin. "We'll be down in a sec. We're clearing out the doxies for you."

Constance frowned. "Doxies?"

"They're nasty little buggers that like to infest the drapes." George explained. He pointed a finger upwards. "Hermione's going to be in Bill's old room across from Ginny on the second floor. You're getting Percy's room on the third across from me and Fred. The bathroom is on the fourth floor, mom and dad are in the master bedroom on the fifth, and Ron's up on the sixth. If Harry ever shows up, we'll pull out a cot so he can sleep up there with him."

Connie arched a brow at learning where the room she'd be staying in was located. "You guys have me in the room across from you and Fred?"

George gave her a mischievous look. "Why? You nervous?"

The girl felt herself blush slightly at the implications of that question. She cleared her throat. "Mihnea told me to tell you that if he found out about you sneaking into my room, he'd kill you."

"Well, it's my house, so there wouldn't be any sneaking involved, would there?" he pointed out playfully. "I could just walk right in. And he didn't say anything about you sneaking into **my** room, did he?"

Her cheeks warmed even more, but before she could say anything she heard the heavy footfalls of Fred taking the steps down two at a time. He jumped over the last five and landed right in front of them.

"**Our **room." he corrected, then glanced sideways at Connie. "And you don't have to worry about a thing. If you decide to go sneaking in there at night, I'd totally turn around to give you guys privacy."

George snorted and Connie's mouth fell open. "You will not!" she exclaimed.

"What, you want me to **watch**?" he asked in a faux display of shock. "That comes dangerously close to twincest, and twincest is **wrong.**"

Dear God in heaven, what had she just walked into? Connie's mouth snapped shut and she gave Fred a hard shove backwards.

"Shut your mouth, Fred Weasley! You're awful!"

Both boys were snickering at her reaction. She was about to give them an earful when she heard her phone ring. Damn it. She was supposed to call home as soon as she arrived so they'd know she was okay. The twins both went still at the sound. Even Ron stuck his head back out over the landing again.

"What's that noise?" he called down.

"It's my phone." Constance told them, then pulled it out of her pocket to answer it. It was her dad's number on the display. She pressed a button, then put it up to her ear. "Daddy, I am **so** sorry." she apologized without bothering to give him a greeting. "I got blindsided when I got here and forgot about calling."

She heard him chuckle on the other end of the line. "I take it you didn't get burned to a crisp, then?"

"Nope." she reported. "I'm all in one piece and no burns to speak of."

"Good." he said. "You aunt was starting to bitch at me for killing you."

In the background, she heard Syn shout at him to shut up. Connie couldn't help but laugh. She wished she could see what was going on over there.

"I promise I'm not dead."

"I certainly hope not because I'd hate to be talking to a ghost." Ed teased. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, but if you do, name it after me."

"I will." she said. Her dad was so wonderful. "Bye daddy."

When she hung up her cell phone, Ron had finally come downstairs to join them and all three boys were staring at her. She shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry about that." she said. "My dad told me to call when I got here so they'd know I got through okay, and I forgot about it."

None of them seemed too concerned about the conversation itself. They were too busy studying the device in her hand.

"Is that a fellytone?" Ron asked, looking fascinated. "I didn't know muggles made them small enough to carry around like that!"

Oh lord, she'd forgotten about the wizarding world being ignorant about modern technology. "It's called a 'telephone', Ron. I don't use this thing much, but I brought it just in case. It's faster than an owl."

Fred and George thought it was the most wonderful thing they'd ever seen. "Wicked!" they said together.

They looked like they were about to ask if they could play around with it when a loud thud sounded from the kitchen.

"OW!" Hermione's voice exclaimed. "Why is there a table right in front of the fireplace!"

She must have rolled right into it as well. That made Constance feel like less of a clumsy idiot. Now that everyone who was visiting had arrived, they just had to wait for Mrs. Weasley and Ginny to get back from their shopping. It was the most nerve-wracking wait of Connie's life.

* * *

><p>Hermione hadn't come by herself. Sometime after the end of term, she'd gone out and bought herself a cat. A large, fluffy orange cat with a flat face that looked like it had been smashed into a door. Connie didn't dare comment on it herself, but Ron took care of that for her.<p>

"Bloody hell, Hermione, that is an** ugly **cat." he said. "It looks like a pig with hair."

The girl cradled the animal to her chest and frowned at him. "Crookshanks is **not** ugly." she said. "He's unique."

The 'unique' feline also appeared to be half-kneezle, but Hermione would neither confirm nor deny it. All she knew about him was that he had been sitting in the store for a long time and no one else seemed to want him. Connie didn't have enough knowledge about cats to be able to tell for sure, but Mihnea would probably know. He was a cat person. What was absolutely certain was that Crookshanks didn't like Scabbers at all. He immediately took to chasing Ron's rat around the house whenever he was able to. Ron had to rescue the rodent and put him in his cage so he wouldn't be eaten.

Their time waiting was spent listening to the boys tell stories about their vacation. Egypt sounded like an fascinating place to visit. Connie had never been, but she knew it was full of history and culture. From the sound of it, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had managed to convince their older children to come along as well. That must have been fun. From everything she'd heard, Bill and Charley were great guys. Percy, on the other hand, seemed to have been a wet blanket the whole time. The twins had pushed him off into a pyramid and got in loads of trouble for it. Constance didn't understand what the boy's problem was. She didn't spend that much time around Percy – but it was telling that his own siblings didn't bother with him that much either. He was beginning to give off the impression that he had a superiority complex or something.

It was about an hour before they heard the kitchen door swing open and an older woman's voice call out.

"Boys! Come out here and help your sister get the bags out of the car!"

They must have gotten a new one after Harry and Ron wrecked their old Ford. It was probably still living the wild life in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Constance found herself wondering where wizards went to buy groceries. There was a muggle village not far from here, but they would have to go somewhere to exchange their wizarding money for something they could use. Fred, George, and Ron all immediately responded to their mother's summons. Connie and Hermione weren't quite sure what they were supposed to do, but out of politeness they went out into the kitchen to ask if there was anything they could do to help.

Mrs. Weasley was a kind, soft looking woman with the same ginger hair as all of her children. She was wearing an old fashioned, gingham dress with knitted sleeves that looked like they had been made by hand. The moment the girls offered their assistance, she waved them off.

"Absolutely not!" she said. "I'm not about to put house guests to work. The boys can manage."

Ginny came into the kitchen with her arms full of bags. She set them down on the table then came over to give both of them hugs. She was much warmer and friendlier after last school year.

"You got here alright then?" the girl questioned. "I hope the table didn't get in the way."

Constance and Hermione exchanged a look. That table seemed to be something they had to warn everyone about. The boys finally came in loaded down with just as many bags as Ginny had brought in.

"Good God mother, did you buy the whole store?" Fred asked as he plopped them down next to the others.

"Stop complaining George. We have to make sure there's enough for everyone." Mrs. Weasley said.

"I'm not George!** He** is!" he complained, pointing at his twin.

The older woman made a face. "I'm sorry Fred. Is that all of it?"

Connie could see what they meant now. Their mother had a harder time of telling them apart than she did. It was an amusing thing to see. Ron and George set down the things they carried in, then reported that everything was out of the car. Rather than putting everything up by hand, Mrs. Weasley just pulled out her wand and cast a spell that sent the objects flying around the room to their proper places. She slid her wand back into the pocket of her dress then turned to properly greet the girls.

"I apologize for that." she said, giving them both a warm smile. "I'm so glad you got here alright. Did you have any trouble at all?"

"No ma'am." they both replied.

Connie was still nervous about the whole thing, but Mrs. Weasley seemed to be a nice, likeable woman. Hermione stuck out her hand first.

"I'm Hermione Granger." she said, introducing herself. "I hope it's not a bother for us to be here..."

The woman made another waving motion and pulled her into a hug. "Not at all dear. We have no problem with the boys having their friends over for a visit."

George managed to get around the table and put his arm around Constance, gently pushing her forward. "Mom," he began, drawing her attention over to them. "This is Connie."

Remembering her manners, the girl smiled and gave a small curtsy. It got a couple of odd looks, but that's what you were supposed to do, wasn't it? "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Ah, so **you're** Constance Stryker!" she said brightly. She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around her in a gentle hug. She smelled like soap and fresh flowers. "It's nice to finally be able to put a face with the name." She pressed a hand to her cheek. "I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Were you able to get all your things upstairs and unpacked?"

The girl nodded. "Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips. "And such manners! But there's no need to be so formal." she looked between Constance and Hermione. "While you're here, you're family. It's just Mrs. Weasley."

While it was nice that she was offering to let them address her informally, Connie wasn't sure if she'd be able to do it. You couldn't just walk into someone's house and not call them ma'am or sir. It was horribly rude. Once Mrs. Weasley was assured that everyone was settled in, she told them that her husband Arthur would be home from work soon and they'd all be able to sit down for a spot of supper. Everything about this house and the boys' mother was so charming, Constance wasn't quite sure why she'd been so nervous in the first place. It felt like walking right into a second home.

* * *

><p>Reviews make the world go round! :D<p> 


	33. The Ministry of Magic

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The Ministry of Magic was located in a large open area constructed under the heart of London. So far underground that it was below all the subway tunnels and sewer systems. Descending into it required utilizing one of the various methods of entrance the wizards had come up with. Some were as mundane as simply flooing in, while others were downright nasty - such as flushing yourself in through certain toilets in a specified public loo in the city. Integra and Syn didn't intend on using such a horrible means of transportation. They decided the simplest and most sanitary method of entry was a telephone booth located on one of the side streets that kept it somewhat hidden from the main traffic areas.

"I don't suppose they could have come up with a less dramatic way of getting in?" Integra commented as they both stepped inside the booth. It was a tight squeeze, but they managed.

The redhead made a face and readjusted her briefcase. "These people are all about being dramatic. I think it would kill them to do something simple."

Since neither of them had ever attempted to get into the Ministry of Magic before, Kingsley Shacklebolt had given them very specific instructions on how to use the booth. One had to lift the receiver of the phone, press a particular combination of numbers, and the interior of the booth would descend through the ground like an elevator. After making their way down a long, concrete shaft it opened up into a large room full of people coming and going about their business. It would have looked like a courtyard if it weren't underground. There were facades of buildings and a large fountain in the middle with cobblestone paths winding their way around it. Once the telephone booth came to a halt on the floor, Integra pushed the door open and the two women stepped out.

To meet the Minister, they had to go to a building situated behind and to the right of the massive fountain. It became clear the moment they began walking down the paths that everyone who saw them knew who they were. To be more accurate, they knew who Syn was. Nahuals were distinctive looking, so they were impossible to miss. Even with them being so extraordinarily rare, they were almost always born into the Newsom family. There were few other lines of humans could claim the distinction – or curse, as the wizarding world saw it – of being one or being related to one. The people who saw them moved out of their way to give them a wide berth. It was at times like this that Syn actually didn't mind her family's forced exile from the magical world. It was incredibly annoying to be surrounded by masses of people who feared you for no reason.

They knew they had reached the appropriate building when they saw Shacklebolt waiting for them just inside the door. Apparently, he would be the one to lead them the rest of the way. It was a good thing too, because everything about the way the Ministry was arranged was horribly confusing and beyond any sort of logical understanding. The elevator that would take them to the conference room where the meeting would be held moved not only up and down, but back and forth and side to side as well. How on earth was anyone supposed to know where they were going in this mess?

When the elevator finally came to a stop, a disembodied female voice announced they had reached the Department of Mysteries. An unusual name for a governmental department if there ever was one. There were two men in black robes waiting for them just beyond the elevator doors. When they stepped out, the wizards immediately held up their hands for them to stop. They both looked directly at Syn. It was clear from the looks on their faces they didn't approve of her presence there.

"By order of the Minister for Magic, you are required to relinquish your wand before proceeding any further." The dark haired one announced formally.

Syn's eyes narrowed. She really wanted to give these people a good talking to, but held herself back. She couldn't risk making things more difficult for Integra. She cleared her throat.

"I don't carry a wand." she told them.

The two men exchanged a look, as if they couldn't fathom the idea of someone who used magic going without one. They obviously didn't believe her. The lighter haired of the two looked her over.

"You will step forward for a search."

Integra looked like she was beginning to get pissed off, but Syn gave her a silent nod to indicate she would consent to it. It was the only way to get past the two guards. She was asked to remove her jacket and hand over her briefcase so one of them could search them by hand, while the other ran his wand over her almost like a hand held metal detector. Everything they did came up clean.

"You are required to wear a restrictive collar during your meeting with the Minister." the dark haired one said. "It will be removed by a ministry official before you leave."

The redhead gave them both a hard look, then pulled her hair up for them to place the collar around her neck. It was two pieces of metal which magically welded themselves together once properly placed. They both paused noticeably when they saw her ear that was half missing and the vicious looking scars crisscrossing her neck and shoulders Once everything was done and they were assured of their 'safety', the two men returned her belongings and finally let them pass.

The conference room itself had black stone walls, making it feel much smaller than it's actual size. It was probably designed strictly for the purpose of intimidation. A long table sat in the middle with four men and two women sitting on one side of it, while two empty chairs were placed on the opposite side. They took their seats and Shacklebolt claimed a chair next to the man with ginger colored hair. It was then that the man in dark colored robes sitting in the middle cleared his throat.

"You are Integral Hellsing, I presume?" he asked.

If he was speaking first, he must be the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. When Integra inclined her head in response, Syn's suspicion was confirmed.

"As the Minister for Magic, I have consented to this meeting with you and your..." he glanced at Syn. "Representative?"

"Syn Newsom is the weapons expert and magical authority for my organization." the lady knight informed him in a brisk tone.

The man wasn't happy about it, but he cleared his throat and went on. "Miss Hellsing, these are the representatives of..."

"**Sir** Hellsing." Integra interjected.

Fudge paused, looking shocked he had been interrupted. "Excuse me?"

"I am a knight of Her Majesty's Round Table." the woman told him. "I'm to be addressed as 'sir', not 'miss'."

The man didn't know what to think about being corrected. "**Sir** Hellsing." he amended, then went back to his previous explanation of who the other attendants were. "These are the department representatives who will be taking part in our discussions." he gestured to the other people sitting on his side of the table. "Lucius Malfoy of the Board of Governors, senior undersecretary Delores Umbrage, Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, Cassandra Ellard of the Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Rufus Scrimgeour of the Auror Division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I believe you've already met our liaison with the muggle government, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The two women made no overt reaction to the presence of Lucius Malfoy. They'd heard from Constance about him being the one to slip that diary containing a piece of Voldemort's soul into the Weasley girl's belongings. He didn't look like a very trustworthy sort. Long, almost white-blonde hair spilled across his shoulders, and his face was twisted into this... repugnant sneer. Like he was in the presence of something he couldn't stand the smell of. Scrimgeour appeared to be the sort of man who had spent years on the field gaining personal experience in conflict. He had a rather rugged look about him that gave him the appearance of an old lion. Ellard was a middle aged woman with thick, dark brown hair with streaks of gray at the temples that was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck. The small pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose gave her the air of a librarian. Umbrage... she was a short, squat looking woman clad entirely in various shades of pink. There was a bright, almost friendly looking smile on her face, but there was something about the strange glint in her eye that gave the redhead the impression that she wasn't very friendly at all. Fudge himself was a bit shorter than she expected him to be. And he gave off this really odd feeling. Not overtly negative, exactly, but more like he was a very careful sort. Almost like there was a weakness of character in him that he recognized and would do anything to hide from others.

Syn glanced briefly at Arthur Weasley. After hearing his name, she could see the resemblance between him and the large brood of children in her niece's photograph. That particular shade of ginger hair was unmistakable. He had the same freckles as well, though they were more faded from age. So this was the father of Connie's boyfriend? She wasn't quite sure what someone in the 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department' would be doing here. Maybe they pulled him in because he dealt with muggles more often. Or it could be that they were just pulling people in they thought they could get away with having at such a meeting for the sake of outnumbering them. A Board of Governors usually handled more mundane matters like things that happened at a school, so there was no good reason for Malfoy to be present either. It was usually difficult to tell how people felt about each other in such an intense environment, but it was apparent that Weasley and Malfoy didn't like each other one bit. They were sitting as far from each other as they could get. With the introductions out of the way, Fudge set to beginning the meeting in earnest.

"Now Sir Hellsing, as I understand it you requested this meeting to bring a grievance to our attention." he said in a business-like tone. "Would you care to explain these concerns of yours?"

Without immediately addressing his question, the knight slid her hand into the interior pocket of her suit jacket to retrieve a tin of cigars. She pulled one out and put it to her lips.

"Miss Newsom, I seem to have left my lighter at home." she said, turning slightly to face her. "Did you happen to bring yours?"

"Of course, sir." Syn replied, then pulled her lighter out of her back pocket to hand it over.

The redhead imagined this was Integra's way of gaining control of the room. If she wasn't asking for permission to smoke, then it was silent indication she didn't care what the rules were and was going to do it anyway. She lit the tip of her cigar and passed the lighter back to Syn.

"Thank you." she told her, then looked back at the collection of wizards across the table. "It has recently come to my attention that the Ministry of Magic has been interfering with Hellsing's operations." she said plainly, not mincing words. "There have been a number of incidents where vampire attacks on the populace were concealed from us. Attacks where the vampire inevitably escaped and all witnesses had their memories erased. Upon our initial suspicion of the Ministry's involvement, we attempted to discuss the matter with the Prime Minister only to find that he had no memory of these events either. I want an explanation."

Scrimgeour immediately leaned forward, looking interested in the information. Fudge glanced at him briefly, then gave her a forced smile.

"Sir Hellsing, while it is unfortunate that these 'victims' you speak of have no memory of the attacks made on them, that is no reason to suspect we had anything to do with..."

"I was able to overpower and diffuse the obliviation spell used to erase the Prime Minister's memories." Syn spoke up, not letting the man finish. "We know for a fact that your aurors were involved."

"The Prime Minister has been obliviated by **my** aurors?" Scrimgeour questioned, placing his hands down flat on the table before him. He appeared suspicious of the accusation, but thoughtful all the same. "All cases of obliviation have to go through my office for approval, and I have **never **given clearance for such a thing."

The Minister looked around at those with him and cleared his throat. "This is a **very** serious accusation you're making." he said once he'd turned back to them. "We cannot give credence to these claims without proo..."

"I'm well aware of how things work within the realms of government." Integra interrupted yet again. "I'm not foolish enough to bring an accusation forward without proof." she gestured to Syn. "I understand that the magical world accepts memories as a form of incontrovertible evidence. When Miss Newsom removed the obliviation charm from the Prime Minister, she was thoughtful enough to obtain his permission to use his newly revealed memories to help our case."

The redhead retrieved a small vial from her back pocket. "This should tell you everything you need to know." she reported, holding it up for them to see. "It shows that the Prime Minister was obliviated on four separate occasions by wizards wearing the crest of the Ministry of Magic and claiming to be aurors."

Fudge's mouth opened and closed a couple of times in shock. Scrimgeour, however, narrowed his eyes at the vial thoughtfully.

"Would you be willing to let me review those memories in a pensive?" he asked.

Integra inclined her head. "Of course. Do what you will with them." she replied. "These memories have been bottled and brought here to be kept in your records. We have a second, identical set we've kept for ourselves." she gave Fudge a look. "Because I know all too well how important things sometimes tend to go missing."

Malfoy peered at the vial held in Syn's fingers. "And where would this second set be?" he asked with a sneer.

Was the man actually stupid enough to believe they would come out and tell them where the second set was? The lady knight narrowed her good eye at him. "That is confidential information. Suffice to say, they are kept in a secure location that only myself and select members of my organization are able to enter."

There was a new sort of awareness that swept through the people sitting across from them. Many members of magical society labored under the mistaken idea that muggles were less intelligent and inferior to them because they couldn't perform magic. Integra, with that one display of preparedness, had demonstrated to them that she was to be taken seriously.

Fudge stared at her, then took a breath to regain himself. He decided to switch tactics. "These memories will be put into our records and we will conduct a full inquiry to determine if any members of the Ministry are responsible for this. Any aurors who are found to have taken part in the obliviation of the muggle Prime Minister will be disciplined." he informed them.

Syn handed the vial of memories to Scrimgeour. The rugged, somewhat wild looking man used his wand to conjure up a lock box and placed it inside for safekeeping. The redhead couldn't be sure if he was the sort to conveniently 'misplace' something like that or if he would actually conduct the investigation, but he did seem to be genuinely put off by the idea of people under his command doing something without his knowledge.

Integra puffed idly on her cigar and flicked the ashes off onto the table. "I want an investigation into the aurors responsible for interfering with our operations as well."

That didn't go over very well. Several of the wizards sitting across the table gave a start.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Sir Hellsing." Fudge stated in a tone that was meant to calm the nerves. "The Ministry has determined that the vampires responsible for the attacks you mention were wizards before their transformation. Therefore they fall under our jurisdiction."

Both Integra and Syn arched brows at the comment. First this man was going to claim that the Ministry had nothing to do with the victims losing their memories, and now he was admitting that they had investigated the cases? Fudge had just made himself out to be a liar, though he probably didn't realize that they noticed.

Ellard sat forward in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. "Sir Hellsing, the Ministry of Magic categorizes vampires as 'beings' which gives them certain rights. I understand that your organization is responsible for protecting the muggle populace against attacks made by them – and this is truly commendable." she began, her tone sounding sincere. "However, vampires who commit crimes are to be given a fair trial. Judged by their peers and given an appropriate sentence. The Hellsing Organization isn't well known for being forgiving, or for observing the rights of vampires."

Sir Integra turned her attention onto the woman. "With all due respect, what exactly does the Ministry of Magic see as an 'appropriate sentence' for a vampire charged with the slaughter of innocent people? Imprisonment? Giving a vampire a prison sentence hardly solves the problem. They can survive for centuries and they grow more powerful with every year they live. To put one in a confinement for long periods of time would only make them more violent and dangerous. With enough time, they would be able to break out and wreck more havoc than ever before." she paused to take a breath, and looked around at their audience. "You seem to have the idea that Hellsing destroys all vampires without distinction. This isn't so. Since the Great War when the existence of vampires became known to the general public, we have taken many steps to ensure the safety of those vampires who aren't a menace to society. Hellsing was heavily involved in the creation of laws to prevent civilians from forming rouge groups of vampire hunters. We are currently working with the Round Table conference to formulate laws to protect the rights of people who provide living blood sources for vampires..."

"You're talking about those people who allow the creatures to drink from them." Malfoy piped up with a look of distaste on his face. "So you admit that you **approve** of the actions of people who behave like common harlots."

"It is not our place to make moral judgments about what people choose to do with their lives." Integra told him, narrowing her good eye. "Vampires require human blood to survive. They can get it one of three ways. They can attack and kill for it, drink from an unwilling source while leaving them alive, or they can feed from a person who consents to give them blood. To deny them the right to drink from a willing donor is to leave them no choice but to attack the innocent. Since the bleeders and donors have come forward, there have been far fewer vampire attacks on the populace. For that alone, they deserve a show of respect."

The blonde wizard looked like he didn't appreciate being corrected by her, but he shut his mouth. Meanwhile, Ellard had been listening closely and seemed to be somewhat impressed by what she was hearing.

"I... wasn't aware of this information before." she said. It sounded like she was talking to herself more than to them. Making some sort of silent decision.

Integra inclined her head slightly, then sat back in her chair to address them as a whole. "The Hellsing Organization's mission is very simple. We are charged with the protection of the people of this nation from **any** supernatural attacks. There is nothing difficult to understand about that. It does not concern me who or what these creatures were before they were turned. A monster is a monster and if they attack my people, Hellsing hunts them down. In every instance of their involvement, your aurors have allowed the vampire in question to escape and have inflicted unnecessary harm on the survivors of these attacks. This is something I will not stand for."

Weasley cleared his throat to draw their attention to him. "The survivors have been harmed in some way?" he asked.

The man sounded like he was genuinely concerned. To the Minister's right, Malfoy shot that derisive sneer of his in Weasley's direction. Syn was beginning to wonder if he was capable of any other expression.

"There has been no 'unnecessary harm' to muggles that I'm aware of." he said smoothly, then looked back at the women. "If you can't provide evidence, then you have no right to claim any wrongdoing on our part."

The knight gestured for Syn to open the briefcase they'd brought with them to remove the documents within. The redhead passed them to her, and Integra slid them over to Fudge.

"There is** ample** evidence." she said pointedly. "When the memories of the survivors were erased, it caused permanent mental damage to them. There was one incident of your aurors obliviating several of **my** men and they have yet to recover from it. If you don't consider that to be unnecessary harm, then perhaps you should focus your attention on your own people and leave the muggles to me."

Weasley looked particularly disturbed by the comment. "Are you saying that obliviating muggles is damaging to them?"

Integra glanced at Syn. That was her way of telling her to take over since she knew more about the subject than she did.

"Muggle brains function differently than people able to utilize magic." the redhead told them. "The more traumatic an event is for them, the more of an impression it leaves on their mind. When you remove that memory, the energy required to do it forces other memories from their mind as well. Many of these people have been permanently placed in mental institutions because they no longer remember who they are or how to function on their own. This causes an enormous amount of mental anguish for them and the members of their families who don't understand what's happened to them."

Weasley's brows knitted together, while Shacklebolt, Scrimgeour, and Ellard all gave noticeable starts.

"It's always been the Ministry's policy to obliviate muggles who have seen too much for their own protection." Scrimgeour said. "We've been doing it for centuries."

Ellard became thoughtful. "It... **has** been shown many times that a powerful enough memory charm will put a wizard into the hospital for treatment." she admitted out loud. "If a muggle's brain functions differently, they may not be able to recover like a wizard could..."

"If that's the way of it, then our policies may need to be rewritten." Weasley said. He turned to look at the Minister. "We can't go around removing memories if it harms the muggles as much as they say. It just isn't right."

Fudge shot all of them a look that said he did not appreciate them getting involved in the conversation without being helpful to him. "This is pure **conjecture**." he said in an attempt to console them. He glanced back at Integra and Syn. "All this about memory charms causing damage, and yet you claim to have removed the memory charms placed on the Prime Minister with him suffering no ill effects?"

"The Prime Minister hasn't suffered through a traumatic event." Syn pointed out. "If there was no strong emotional impact, then the charm doesn't cause damage."

Malfoy made a slight gesture with his hand. "The muggle mind is well known for it's **weaknesses**." he said, looking directly at Integra as he spoke. "Perhaps your people should learn how to be less traumatized by small things like this."

The knight bristled. "**Small** things?" she questioned, giving him one of her famous icy glares. "Perhaps you don't understand the immense amount of personal suffering inflicted by a vampire upon it's victims. Those who survive live with the memory of what was done to them and the deaths of their family and friends in most cases. Am I to understand that wizards are so incapable of feeling emotion that they wouldn't be affected by that if it happened to them?"

The man looked offended by the fact she'd even spoken to him. "You are a **muggle**, Sir Hellsing." using the word as if it were a curse. "It is **you **who are incapable of understanding the necessity of our actions. Muggles must be prevented from having too much knowledge for their own good. If only a handful suffer permanent damage, it is a small price to pay."

Dear God in heaven, did these people have no conscious at all? From the way he acted, this man didn't seem to particularly care about doing things for a muggle's 'own good'. He just wanted to do things their way because it made their lives easier. Integra put her hands flat on the table, looking openly pissed as she rose up from her seat.

"You listen to me and listen well because I am only going to say this once." she said in a threateningly low tone. "Hellsing has been dealing with attacks of this nature for more than a century without causing his level of chaos in our clean up operations. Even with all your magic, this seems to be beyond your abilities. All attacks made by dark creatures are to be turned over to **me**. Your aurors will not be involved in any way, shape or form. Magic is categorized as a supernatural force and if I determine that it is being used to harm any of the people I am sworn to protect, the wizard or witch responsible will be seen as a threat and Hellsing will respond accordingly."

The woman introduced at the beginning of the meeting as Delores Umbrage raised her hand and made this annoyingly sweet noise. Like she was going to say something horribly insulting in the most saccharine way possible.

"Excuse me." she said. "So silly of me, but it **sounds **as though you are making a threat, Sir Hellsing."

Her thin lips pulled into a syrupy looking smile that made her look like a toad wrapped up in a pink bow. Integra glared her down.

"I am not threatening anything." she replied. "I am simply telling you what **will** happen if you don't pull your people back and stop meddling in things that are Hellsing's business." She paused and sat back down in her chair, tapping the ashes from her cigar onto the surface of the table for a second time. "I am willing to be reasonable with you, Minister. If you say these vampires were members of the magical community before being turned, I am willing to accept input and assistance from you **if **we determine that it's necessary. But final jurisdiction of things of this nature always falls to me first and I make the final decision on what is to be done about it. If you can't accept that, then it would be in your best interests to stay out of it entirely."

Fudge leaned forward intently. "Sir Hellsing, you are coming **extremely** close to overstepping your boundaries." he warned. "You have no say in matters handled by magical government. If you choose to overlook that, I will report you to your Prime Minister and have you removed from your position."

The lady knight quirked a brow. "Hellsing does not answer to the Prime Minister's office. We report directly to the Queen. My family has been on good terms with her for many years and we are quite friendly with each other." she paused with a small smile on her lips. "To put it quite simply, Minister Fudge, there is no threat you could make or any action you could take that would frighten me into submission. I have more resources at my disposal than you can imagine, and I have no qualms with using them if I must. I am not a person to be trifled with. Now, I don't intend to leave this room until some decision on the matter is reached and confirmed **in writing **for my records. Since you've been so kind to gather together a collection of people who can provide their input, it seems reasonable to request this to be put to a vote."

Fudge looked like he was about to blow a gasket or something, but Shacklebolt cleared his throat before he could say anything.

"Sir Hellsing makes a strong point, sir." he told him. "It's common policy to put matters like this to a vote of simple majority."

The Minister looked horribly upset. Syn could tell just by looking at him that he wanted to throw them out. But he had backed himself into a corner by lying about what they'd been doing, then allowing such venomous comments to be made without reprimand. He had no choice but to accept the vote. Since Fudge was the officiator of the meeting and Integra was the one bringing the grievance, the two of them didn't have a vote. Syn wouldn't be allowed because she was banned from the magical world. They knew for a fact that Shacklebolt would vote for them. The rest would be up to the others. Given their overt reactions to what they had revealed, Syn had a strong suspicion that Weasley and Ellard would side with them. Malfoy obviously wouldn't, and Umbrage didn't look very promising either. Scrimgeour... he was a toss up. There was no telling what that man was thinking.

"Very well." Fudge said, relenting. "All those in favor of the Ministry of Magic continuing our current response to these attacks?"

Only Malfoy and Umbrage raised their hands. The Minister glanced sideways at the others and began to realize he was on the losing end of the stick.

"All those in favor of relinquishing jurisdiction to the Hellsing Organization?"

Shacklebolt, Ellard, Scrimgeour, and Weasley all raised their hands. Four to two for them, giving Hellsing the winning majority. Syn and Integra shared a mutual look of satisfaction. They'd gotten what they had come for.

"Well then, with that out of the way I'll assume that the restrictions placed on my bodyguard are no longer required." the knight said, then gestured to the redhead. "Please remove that horrid thing from your neck, Syn. It doesn't suit you at all."

Syn smiled. "Yes, sir."

She'd been looking forward to this ever since she found out she would have to wear a restrictive collar. There was nothing in the world better than giving an idiot a good scare. Without saying a word, she reached up to take hold of the collar around her neck. Summoning up the amount of energy she would need, she directed it through her fingers to snap the metal circle in two. Every wizard on the opposite side of the table, minus Shacklebolt, looked shocked beyond belief when she tossed it on the table. Maybe he had heard Syn's comment to Integra in the Prime Minister's office after all.

"That's... that's not possible." Fudge sputtered, staring at her in horror. "There is no magic that could break that..."

The redhead quirked a brow and pulled her own cigarettes out of her pocket. After sitting though an entire meeting with Integra smoking, she could use a hit of nicotine herself.

"No witchcraft, you mean." she clarified as she lit up one of the black cigarettes. "You seem to have forgotten that I am not a witch. I am a sorceress, and your **common** magic can't do a damn thing to me."

Weasley sat back in his chair, looking impressed, while Ellard and Scrimgeour both looked surprised and thoughtful. But Malfoy got so upset he shot up from his chair and drew his wand.

"**Common** magic!" he demanded, pointing the length of wood at her face. "How **dare **you?"

The redhead didn't need her magic to take care of his little outburst. She simply summoned up a set of shadows to wrap around his ankle and dragged him back down into his seat.

"Put that little twig of your away before you hurt yourself." she told him. "If someone gets injured in here, it's going to make everyone look bad and we don't want that, do we?"

Umbrage's mouth fell open and she pointed an accusing finger at Syn. "You brought that **black witch** in here knowing she could curse any one of us at any time!"

Integra shot a dismissive look in the woman's direction. "I believe we've made it quite plain that Miss Newsom is not a witch. And in case you weren't paying attention, she hasn't done anything to you. She obeys **my** orders, madam undersecretary. Perhaps you should keep that in mind in the future." she looked over at Fudge. "I'll be contacting the Prime Minister's office within the week to collect the written report of our little discussion here. Good day."

The two of them walked out without saying another word to any of them. Once they were outside the room, Syn stretched her arms.

"Well, that went better than expected." she commented as they headed toward that weird ass magical elevator.

Integra nodded in agreement. "I've always said there is nothing in this world that can't be solved with a civil conversation."

"Indeed." the redhead said with a nod of agreement. "Coffee?"

The knight looked thoughtful. "You can have your coffee. When we get home, I'm going to pour myself a large scotch."

"It's a bit early in the day to be drinking scotch, isn't it, Integra?"

"It's never too early for scotch, Syn."

"Ah. My mistake, sir."

* * *

><p>Reviews!<p> 


	34. Trust

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance quickly figured out that the Burrow was a place were just about anything could happen.

During the second day of their stay, everyone had been rounded up in the back yard to take care of an infestation of garden gnomes. The girl had never seen one herself, but she'd heard about the lesson Lockhart had given on them in Mihnea's DADA class. They were uglier than she expected, and once they started popping up out of the ground to nip at their ankles, she had absolutely no problem with beating them across the yard with the wooden bats they'd been given. Even Hermione's cat joined in. He would chase them around the garden and pounce on them before dragging them off somewhere. Crookshanks always returned to them gnome-less, so they could only assume he'd eaten them.

Then there was the poltergeist that lived in the attic. The twins had written about it in their letters, but she hadn't realized how pesky the damn thing was. It wasn't as bad as Peeves, but it still threw things around and raised hell when someone was up there. Fred and George had taken her up to the attic to show her the new developments they'd been working on with their 'wheezes' one night and the poltergeist didn't seem to like her presence one bit. The only way the twins could get any work done was to shove the thing into a closet and lock it in there.

Then came the patriarch of the family, Mr. Weasley. He too had the bright ginger hair the rest of the family had and was much more permissive with his children than his wife was. It was apparent that Mrs. Weasley was the disciplinarian of the bunch. The man had a thing for everything to do with muggles as well. The moment he found out about Hermione being muggle-born and Connie living with muggles, he asked them all sorts of odd questions. (What exactly is the function of a rubber duck? What is the purpose of having a picture that doesn't move? Why are they called 'mood rings' and how do they work? Etc.) He also had a massive collection of old muggle items in the storehouse outside. Most of his assortment of objects consisted of dried up batteries and old TV antennas. Constance would have found that strange if it weren't for the knowledge that a wizard would consider those things to be unusual novelties worthy of being collected. At her house, things like that would have been thrown away when they were no longer useful.

It was about half-way though the visit that Constance found herself in the most uncomfortable position she'd ever thought she'd wind up in. They were all gathered around the kitchen table for supper when Mr. Weasley came home from work to join them.

"Good afternoon, Weasleys!" he called out in his customary greeting. He gave his wife a kiss, then sat down at the head of the table. "Anything exciting happen today?"

He always asked that when he came home from work. With the Weasley house the way it was, something interesting **always** happened.

"We found out why we haven't been able to get anything to Harry." Ron reported. "He went and blew up his aunt."

Connie's eyes went wide. She hadn't been told about that yet. "Blew up his aunt!" she exclaimed.

The boy nodded. "Got upset about something she said about his mom and blew her up like a balloon. Said she floated right out the window. He packed up all his things and took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron. Errol's been taking letters to the wrong place. We wouldn't have known a thing about it if Harry hadn't sent Hedwig here with something."

_Oh._ So they meant 'blew up' in the inflating sense rather than the fiery explosion she'd been thinking of. That was a relief. At least no one had died like she'd initially thought. It was weird to her that Errol didn't know where to deliver the letters they'd written to Harry. Every messenger owl she'd ever encountered had some sort of magical ability to figure out exactly where to go even without being given an address. But then, the Weasley's owl was getting old, so maybe he wasn't as on top of things as he used to be.

Mrs. Weasley made a thoughtful hum. "I suppose we'll meet him when we go to Diagon Alley and bring him back home with us then." she said. "There's no reason for him to stay at the pub for the rest of the summer."

All the Weasleys nodded in agreement, then Ginny looked down the table at her father. "Did anything interesting happen at the Ministry today, dad?" she questioned.

Mr. Weasley took a bite from his plate, set down his fork, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Actually, I had to attend a **very** interesting meeting with the Minister this morning."

Connie's ears pricked up. She hadn't heard the man talk about the things he did at work other than in very general terms. Ron sat up a bit straighter himself.

"What was it?" he asked.

"Apparently, the Hellsing Organization has been having problems with the aurors getting involved in their business. Integral Hellsing came personally to demand that Fudge take care of it." Mr. Weasley reported. He glanced over at his wife. "Did you have any idea that memory charms cast on muggles could cause permanent damage to them? I had no idea until they brought it up!"

Molly noticeably paused. "No, I didn't realize that..."

Constance went very still. She'd forgotten that her mother's meeting at the Ministry was scheduled for this morning... At the table, all the children were all leaning forward intently, wanting to hear more.

"The Hellsing Organization?" Fred questioned. "Aren't those the muggles who hunt monsters?"

Mr. Weasley nodded his assent. "Indeed they are, and I've heard they're right good at it too! I've never seen a muggle with such a powerful presence before. She walked right into the room and immediately took control of it. **Very** impressive. Of course, Sir Hellsing brought a Newsom with her as a bodyguard..."

Mrs. Weasley was in the middle of slicing through a piece of chicken and nearly dropped her dinner knife. "A **Newsom**? You're sure?"

"They've been close friends with the Hellsing family for centuries, dear." Mr. Weasley said, as if to remind her of it.

Hermione frowned at the woman's reaction. "Newsom?" she questioned curiously. "I've never heard that name before..."

"Not heard about the Newsoms?" Fred and George questioned in unison, looking shocked at her admitting she didn't know what something was. "There's been loads of books written about them!"

The girl sniffed and made a face at them. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't know everything." she said. "It isn't possible for me to have read every book that's ever been written, now is it?"

Ron cleared his throat. "They're an old family that uses magic so dark they've been exiled from our world. **No one** messes with the Newsoms. Those people do things that would scare the pants off of You-Know-Who." He looked back down the table. "Fudge actually let Sir Hellsing bring one of them with her?"

"I'm not quite sure of the details, but Kingsley made it sound like Sir Hellsing didn't want to come to the Ministry without magical protection." The man told him. "I wouldn't blame her for it either. She said Miss Newsom was the only member of her organization who could use magic."

Well, that wasn't exactly true, Connie thought to herself. But it wasn't like her father could have gone. She remained very quiet as the conversation turned to more serious matters. This wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to be listening to. Just being in the room while they were talking made her incredibly nervous.

Mr. Weasley was looking at his wife again. "You won't believe this Molly. The Newsom girl was a nahual. There hasn't been one of those born in more than a century!"

The older woman blinked at him in surprise. "Nahual?" she asked. "There's never been a female nahual! It's always been males who are born that way!"

"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't see it with my own eyes." Mr. Weasley admitted. "She's the first there's ever been. Quite extraordinary."

Now, all the Weasley children looked confused. Only Hermione and Constance seemed to know what he was talking about, and Connie certainly wasn't about to go explaining it. She didn't want to get involved in the conversation for fear of saying too much.

Hermione squared her shoulders to address them, spitting out the definition like she were a human encyclopedia. "A nahual is a human being born with an extremely rare mutation that makes their blood poisonous to dark creatures. They are like natural hunters. They smell more enticing to dark creatures than an ordinary human, they can heal much faster and replace their blood supply quicker, are immune to mental manipulation, and they have a very distinctive appearance, with blood colored hair and vivid green eyes."

"They also have a natural talent for black magic." Mrs. Weasley added, looking like she found the whole thing disturbing. "Families that use dark magic are the only ones Nahual have ever been born into and there's a **reason** for it. I don't like the idea of one of them coming into the Ministry."

Mr. Weasley gave her a look. "She didn't do anything, Molly. The Minister forced her to wear a restrictive collar to remove all of her magic. At the end of the meeting, she snapped it right off with no trouble at all. She could have cast a whole number of curses the entire time, but didn't. As a matter of fact, Lucius drew his wand on her and all she did was force him to sit back down. Most wizards would have attacked after being threatened like that."

"Broke off a restrictive collar?" The twins exclaimed in unison. "That's not possible, is it?"

"The Newsom family uses a different sort of magic than most of the wizarding world." the man explained. "Sorcery. It's a thousand times more powerful than any form of witchcraft. There aren't any wands or spells, just living magic. It's very difficult to master and control."

"It's also extremely** dangerous**." Mrs. Weasley said. "You do a spell wrong with our magic, it just blows up in your face and you move on. You can't perform magic wrong with sorcery. If you make the smallest mistake, you die. Even the white forms of sorcery are so dangerous most wizards would never attempt to learn them. Black sorcery is even worse." she gave her husband another of her looks. "I don't **like** it, Arthur. The Newsoms and the Hellsings aren't the sort of families to go messing with."

It was true that sorcery could be dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing, but the notion of dying at the smallest mistake was a horrid exaggeration. There were some rituals that could do that, but it was mostly higher level ones. And surely the woman couldn't really mean what she'd said about not messing with her family, Connie thought. She knew the magical world didn't like them, but the Weasleys were such wonderful people. She would have thought they'd be above such prejudice.

Mr. Weasley picked up his fork again. "Dumbledore trusts them." he said. "And he is an excellent judge of character. He wouldn't believe they were trustworthy if there wasn't a good reason for it."

"I don't care what the reason for it is!" Molly said more forcefully. "Those are dangerous people! The Newsoms are bad enough on their own. The Hellsing family may be muggles, but they're** just** as bad. There are stories that Integral Hellsing killed her own uncle when she was eleven years old to take control of the organization herself. It's not **natural **for a child that age to be so ruthless. Some people even say they have enslaved vampires doing all their dirty work for them. The whole lot of them sound bloodthirsty and cruel. You don't get a reputation like that for no reason. There's something about them that isn't right, and just the thought makes me nervous." she gave her husband a look of reproach. "I don't want to hear another word about those people in my house and that's the end of it."

Constance could not sit here and listen to this. Part of her knew that Mrs. Weasley was responding to something she didn't understand with fear, but it was still too much for her to deal with. She'd kept her mouth shut long enough and she was afraid that if anything else was said about her family, she'd spit something out she wouldn't be able to take back. She pushed her chair back from the table.

"May I be excused?" she questioned, being careful not to look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes.

The woman turned and her whole demeanor changed to one of concern. "Of course. Are you alright dear?"

Connie shook her head to clear it. "I... I think I might have a touch of a stomach bug." she said. "I think I need to go lay down."

The woman still looked a bit worried about her, but nodded in understanding. Constance put her chair back into it's proper place, then stepped out of the kitchen to head upstairs. In the background, she could hear Ron asking how she managed to get a bug in her stomach, then Hermione's sigh as she explained it was a muggle expression that meant she felt sick. Once she was on the third floor, she briskly walked into her room and locked the door behind her. What was she supposed to do about this? George's parents actually **liked** her. They'd told her as much several times, and seemed to fully approve of her relationship with George and her friendship with their other children. But if they felt that way about her family... God, what would happen if they ever found out about her? Mr. Weasley seemed to be more open minded and accepting since he had seen her mother and her aunt for himself, but Mrs. Weasley... she didn't know what to think about her little rant. She didn't understand the circumstances behind what she was saying. She didn't know that all of them were raised a certain way because it was necessary. There were many things about Hellsing's operations that **could **be seen as cruel or bloodthirsty from the outside, but until you lived through the things they dealt with on a regular basis, you'd never be able to understand why they had no choice but to use so called 'extreme' methods.

She dropped down on the saggy mattress of her bed, curled up into a fetal position and buried her face between her knees. She could hear the frogs chirping in the pond outside through the window, but the sound wasn't very comforting. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all. Letting herself get pulled into a situation that she wasn't able to handle on her own. Her mother would know exactly what to do and say. Integra Hellsing could handle anything thrown at her without being bothered by it. When Connie felt the sting of frustrated tears start to well up, she was almost ashamed of them. How pathetic was that? Stuck in her boyfriend's house, crying her eyes out in a guest bedroom she'd holed herself up in to hide. She felt like her insides were eating away at her. This had gone on for too long and had gotten far too big. Bigger than she ever thought it would get. She'd always wondered why Mihnea didn't let himself get close to anyone, but now she understood. It was easier that way. To be alone and not say anything at all rather than having to keep secrets and hide all the time...

She had no idea how long she stayed up there, curled up on the bed crying. She was too wrapped up in her rushing thoughts to notice what time it was. All Connie knew was that the sun was low in the sky and the room was beginning to grow dark when she heard a faint tapping sound at the door.

"Hey, you alive in there?"

It was either George or Fred, but the voice was so quiet she couldn't really make out which one it was. Checking up on her, most likely. She didn't really feel like talking, so she figured that if she stayed quiet they might think she was asleep and go away. She should have known better.

"We know you can't be asleep yet. We've got lock picks and we're not afraid to use them!"

Bloody hell, both of them were out there and they just wouldn't be deterred, would they?

"I'm **fine**." she said.

Though she did her best to hide it, there was still a noticeable crack in her voice. She'd been crying too damn long for it not to show itself in the way she spoke. From the sound of their whispers to each other, the twins heard it as well.

"Your girl doesn't sound fine to me, Georgie. She sound fine to you?"

"Nope. That definitely didn't sound fine." George replied. "Give me those things and go keep the others busy."

"Will do."

The soft sound of footfalls walking away reached her ears almost as soon as the light metallic scrape of metal picks working at the door's lock. Connie pushed herself upright and quickly rubbed the wetness off of her face with the back of her hand. God, this was awful enough as it was without George having to see her crying. The door slid open and she watched him slip inside and close it behind him. He immediately turned on his heel and pointed at her.

"Alright, spill."

Constance carefully cleared her throat. "I told you, I'm fine." she began. "I just don't feel well and..."

"Don't start with that." George interrupted. "I know you're not sick. You've been up here crying for hours and you **never** cry. What's wrong with you?"

She studied him for a moment, then pulled her knees up to rest her chin on top of them. Her eyes turned down to the floor. "I can't talk about it."

"You **could **talk about it if you wanted to." he countered. "You just wont. There's a difference." there was a moment of silence, then he went on. "Fred's running interference to keep the others from coming up here if it's something you don't want them to hear."

She sniffed and turned her head slightly to glance at him. "I'm not stupid, George." she said a bit more harshly than she meant to. "We both know good and damn well Fred's idea of 'running interference' is to drag everyone up here to listen right outside the door."

George looked thoughtful, then reached behind him to turn the lock on the doorknob. Once the latch clicked, he drew his wand and cast a charm to prevent it being unlocked with magic or lock picks, then put a muffling ward on the whole room that would keep any sound from getting out.

"There." he said, putting his wand back into his pocket. "They can listen all they like and not hear a word."

Constance blinked at him and lowered her legs a bit. George was usually one to **help** people listen in on things they shouldn't, not lock doors and cast spells to prevent them snooping around. And to be casting spells when underage wizards weren't allowed... He was actually serious about this.

"What about the trace...?" she began.

"It only detects spells cast around someone underage." he told her. "Not who they came from. Mom and dad cast spells here all the time, so there's no way for anyone to know I was the one who did it."

_Oh._ She thought. Well, that was kind of unfair, wasn't it? If someone came from a magical family, they could cast all sorts of spells when they weren't supposed to and never get in trouble for it. Only someone muggle-born would get caught.

There was a small desk with a matching chair situated against the wall under the window. She watched silently as he pulled out the chair and dragged it over next to the bed to sit down. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap.

"So what's wrong?" he asked gently.

Connie felt like she was cornered. Her standard response of 'I'm fine' obviously wasn't going to work, and she couldn't think up a more suitable excuse. Being in this position was... scary. It felt like the world had suddenly gone out from under her feet, and she couldn't figure out how to keep her balance.

"It's complicated." she replied quietly.

One of George's brows slowly went up. "That's all you're going to say?" he asked. "That's not very helpful."

She sighed and used her arms to pull herself backwards on the bed to prop up against the wall. "George..." Connie ran all the possible ways she could avoid the looming conversation, but none of them seemed to be viable options. She was getting tired of carefully constructed responses and well worded half truths. "I can't do this anymore." she whispered, more than herself than to him. "I've been doing it for too long..."

In front of her, George's expression shifted to a look that appeared cautious and teensy bit worried. "Connie?"

Constance took in the look on his face and drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. She couldn't believe she was about to do this.

"George, I... need to tell you something." she began. "But I need you to promise me that you wont tell anyone else. Not even Fred."

His brows knitted together in confusion. "Why? Is it something bad?"

The girl had to think about that for a minute. "I guess that depends on your definition of 'bad'." she replied. "It's... **big**. And it's very important. There are... things about me that I haven't told you or anyone else about." she paused and gave him a pleading look. "Please, I need you to promise."

That confused look remained, but there was also a spark of interest in his eyes. She'd captured his attention and it looked like he was dead set on hearing whatever it was she had to say.

"Okay, fine." he said, giving in. "I won't tell anyone. What is it?"

Constance had to take another deep breath. "I'm... different, George. I'm not like other people."

"I know that." he said, as if she'd said the most obvious thing in the world. "That's why I like you."

She shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm... There are things about me... big things... that a lot of people wouldn't like." she closed her eyes. "And... I'm afraid that if I tell you about them, you wont see me the same way."

She heard George snort. "You mean scare me off?" he asked, waving a hand. "Oh, please. There's nothing you could say that would scare me."

Constance opened her eyes and peered at him. "Are you sure about that?"

"Absolutely." he replied with no hesitation.

She wasn't sure how truthful that statement was, but she was about to find out. Her gaze wandered over to the window. The sun had almost set below the horizon line, and the room was so dark it was getting harder to see. They were going to need a light if this was going to continue.

"It's getting dark." she commented.

George gave her a weird look, then drew out his wand like he was going to use it to light the lantern sitting on the desk. Before he could cast any spells, Connie stopped him.

"Wait." she said, then reached out her other hand to remove the glass topper. She snapped her fingers above the wick and it burst into flames.

"What the..." George said, his eyes going wide. He looked back and forth between her and the lantern in astonishment. "How did you do that? You don't have your wand out and you didn't use a spe..."

His words trailed off as realization hit him. Connie imagined he was remembering things his father had said over the dinner table.

"No way..." he said incredulously. "You're...?"

She dropped back into her previous sitting position and puled her lower lip between her teeth. "Those women your dad saw at the meeting... they're my family." she told him, deciding to just let it come out. "Integra Hellsing is my mom, and Syn Newsom is my aunt. And... George, your mother is wonderful and she's been so nice to me, but I couldn't just sit there and listen to those awful things she was saying..."

Constance couldn't bring herself to say anything else because it would probably come across as attacking. She let her body curl up on itself protectively, feeling tears well up again. Why did she have to cry so damn much? It was stupid and humiliating. George, surprisingly enough, didn't look afraid or disturbed by anything she'd told him. He had listened to every word with wide eyes and a look of wonder on his face. But the second he saw her crying, he dropped everything and tried to fix it.

"Connie, don't do that." he said softly, getting up from his chair to crawl up on the bed with her. He put his arms around her and pulled her over to cradle against his shoulder. "Mom doesn't know what she's talking about. She's opinionated and when she gets going, you just have to ignore what comes out of her mouth. She says me and Fred aren't going to amount to anything all the time."

He was probably trying to distract her from what was bothering her so much, but Constance was so shocked by the statement that she pulled back to stare at him in horror. "She does not!"

George gave her a somber nod. "Yep. **All **the time. We were working on starting out the Wheezes as a mail order business." he told her. "When mom found out about it, she went psycho and destroyed everything. Set fire to the orders and our whole stock." he leaned down to whisper into her ear. "That's part of the reason why we moved everything up to the attic. The poltergeist stands guard and wont let her up there."

"Holy hell... that's awful!" she exclaimed. How could their mother be so cruel? They had put too much work into their inventions for someone to destroy everything in one go. "How do you put up with that?"

George just shrugged. "Like I said, you ignore it. Dad helps sometimes, but he usually wont argue with her face to face. Mom's not bad really, but she thinks her way of doing things is the **only** way until you prove her wrong. We've just got to keep going and prove her wrong is all." he gave her a light squeeze. "From the way dad was talking, it sounded like he liked your mom and aunt. If dad likes them, then they cant be all that bad. And anyone who shows up a Malfoy is right as rain in my opinion. I don't care who your family is or what they do. You're not a black witch."

Constance let out a small laugh. It seemed that Draco's father was just as bad as his son. His statement about her not being a black witch wasn't entirely true though. But considering that the magical world saw 'black' and 'white' in terms of 'right' and 'wrong', she understood what he meant. She sobered a bit and studied him.

"So... you're not upset?" she asked carefully.

George blinked at her. "Upset? Why would I be upset? I've got a sorceress vampire hunter for a girlfriend! Do you have any idea how **awesome** that is!" he said with exuberance.

Of all the possible reactions she had run through her mind, Connie had never imagined he would think it was awesome. Now that he was aware of who she was, George had all sorts of questions. What was her family like? Did they all live together in the same house? What sort of place was it? He seemed thoroughly fascinated by every small aspect. Of course, he wound up gently asking if any of the things mentioned over supper were true or not. He got all excited about hearing that there really were vampires at Hellsing. She had to explain that they worked for them and weren't considered slaves in the least. It was nice, being able to speak freely. Not having to worry about keeping everything hidden. Even if she'd only come out to one person, she could talk about things she knew and didn't have to worry about him freaking out about it. With the revelation of Syn Newsom being her aunt, there was no way around admitting that she was Mihnea's mother. The only thing she continued to keep to herself was him being half vampire. It wasn't hard to do because she knew that it wasn't her business to talk about. Mihnea could decide when and who to tell. He would probably be pissed about being outed as a Newsom, but given the circumstances, he would get over it. She and George wound up curling up together just talking for hours. Connie couldn't recall ever being so close to him or feeling so comfortable before.

"Why don't you want to tell anyone else?" George asked her. "You know none of them would care."

She was actually starting to feel better about that, but she was still concerned about the repercussions of it. "It's not about them caring or not." she said, readjusting her head more comfortably against his shoulder. "It's just that a secret is more likely to stay a secret with fewer people knowing about it. All it would take is for one person to say the wrong thing where someone else could hear it, and it would spread through the school like wildfire. Mihnea and I would probably be kicked out, and everyone we knew would catch hell for being close to us. I mean, if people at the Ministry found out, your dad could get fired just because we're together." she paused. "I don't want to have that hanging over everyone's heads. It's... a lot to deal with."

He playfully nudged her in the side. "You don't seem to mind it hanging over **my** head." he teased.

Connie pulled away and gave a small punch to his arm. "That is entirely **your** fault." she told him. "You didn't have to come in here demanding to know what I was upset about."

George rubbed his arm and made a face. "Yes I did." he countered. "See, when you get upset, then I get upset. When I get upset, Fred gets upset. And when Fred gets upset, the entire house gets upset because he makes sure God and everybody knows it. I was trying to prevent chaos from breaking out."

One of her brows slowly inched upward. "Uh huh."

"I was!" he said. "Besides, do you even realize this is the first time you've let me touch you for this long? If you didn't tell me all this, then you'd go on acting all tense and nervous every time I got close to you and it was really starting to get annoying."

_Do what?_ She wondered. He had been getting annoyed with her? "Are you serious?"

George glanced at her sideways. "We've been going out what, eight months now? You get skittish when I put my arm around you, we rarely hold hands, and we've only kissed once. Fred says he'd have gotten bored and left by now."

Her brows furrowed. When he put it that way, it did sound like she'd been pretty restrictive. Connie didn't particularly give a damn what Fred thought, but if she had realized how George felt about it... She coughed. "So why have you stuck around then?"

"I figured you acted that way for a reason." he replied. "And I told you I would wait for you to open up and trust me, so I did. It all makes sense now, but I was starting to wonder..."

When his words trailed off, she sat up straighter. "Wonder what?" she prodded.

He gave her this weird, nervous look that he didn't usually get, then shrugged. Like he was trying to push it off. "If it was only fun and games to you and didn't really mean anything."

Whoa! He actually thought that? Her eyes widened. "No!" she exclaimed. "It's always meant something! I've just..." she paused a moment and cleared her throat. "I've just been nervous because... I've always been raised to be careful. About who to trust and what I do. And... I was afraid of getting too close, because I didn't know what would happen if you ever found out..."

George stared at her incredulously. "What, you thought I would leave?"

Connie hung her head. That had been exactly what she was afraid of. And she had come to genuinely care for him enough that the thought was unbearable.

"Considering what most wizards think of us... I thought... it might be a possibility." she admitted.

She looked up and watched as he blew out a long stream of air. "Connie, you're really smart and on top of things, but sometimes you can be really stupid."

She gaped at him and would have come back with something, but he stopped her by leaning down to kiss her. It was nothing like the short peck she'd given him before. It was... long and deep and sweet. The sort of kiss that makes the heart flutter and the toes curl. She noticed he tasted like cinnamon. That was... strangely appropriate for him. Spicy and sweet at the same time. When they finally parted, he didn't move far away. He stayed close enough that their noses touched.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." he whispered.

It was no wonder. Connie felt like she might start floating any second now. Breathing seemed a trivial thing, and she had to remind herself of how to do it. George's hair was starting to get longer, and it felt so silky between her fingers. When had her hands gotten up there? And he smelled like... she paused and leaned forward and down toward his neck.

"You smell like gunpowder."

George pulled back a bit and blinked. "Must be the fireworks."

Oh Jesus, so they were getting into actual explosives now? "I like it It reminds me of home." she said quietly, twirling her fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. "We're definitely doing this more often."

George's eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. "Oh goodie." he said with a laugh and leaned in to kiss her again.

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><p>A.N: Daw... I've been wanting to write this scene for a long time. It makes me very happy to finally get it out of my brain. Anywho, leave a review to show love! Or serious dislike. But no hate please. I'm allergic.<p> 


	35. A New Skill

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money out of this.

The moment the Weasley's owl came to the house with a letter from Connie requesting a conference call in the middle of the night, Mihnea was concerned. The only thing she'd been told to call home for was to tell them what time to meet her and her little buddies at Diagon Alley. That wasn't exactly the sort of thing everyone in the family had to be told, so something important must have happened. Depending on what it was, he was preparing himself for the possibility of having to maim and torture a Weasley. The adults were just as confused. Everyone gathered in aunt Integra's office and once Connie's call came through, the knight put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear it.

"What's this about Connie?" she asked pointedly.

Constance's voice came on the line and it was immediately apparent she was hiding something. Her tone was too happy and friendly. "I just wanted to let you and dad know about the classes I picked to make sure you were okay with them."

Edmund arched a brow. "You're where people can hear you?"

"Yes sir, I'm going to take Arithmancy." she said with a sigh. "I figured you would want me to..." she paused for a moment, as if checking on something, then let out a long whoosh of air. "Sorry about that. I had to wait until the wards were up to make sure no one could hear anything. The walls are thin here."

"Now that you're sure no one can listen in on the conversation, what's going on?" Integra asked again. "I assume since you asked everyone to be present for this, it's something important."

"It is." the girl replied. "It's a couple of things, actually." she took a deep breath. "I... um... told George. About us."

The vampires glanced amongst themselves while the humans at the table stared at the phone.

"You told George." Edmund repeated.

"Well, I was backed into a corner and I didn't really have much choice." she said. "Mr. Weasley came home and talked about that meeting mom and aunt Syn went to at the Ministry. He made it sound like he was impressed and he seemed to like you, but Mrs. Weasley... she doesn't know anything but what she's heard from other people, so she made some... ignorant comments I couldn't stand listening to. I made out like I was sick so I could leave the table. No one else thought it was strange, but George followed me and asked what was going on. I couldn't come up with a good enough excuse, so I told him."

Syn furrowed her brows. "How **much **did you tell him?"

"Um..." she began, making it sound like she was nervous. "Everything except Mihnea being half vampire?"

That was a hell of a lot, then. Mihnea's eyes narrowed. "So Weasley knows my mom is a Newsom." he said, making a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, George knows your mom is a Newsom." she said with a sniff. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't get around it. **You** were the one who said you can't keep big secrets from people you're dating for very long. With the way things are going, everyone is going to find out eventually. He just happened to be the first. He said he didn't care, that none of it bothered him, and he swore to keep it a secret."

Mihnea had said that, hadn't he? Even if she hadn't told George anything about him specifically, he probably would have figured it out. Since he and Connie were cousins, it wouldn't be that difficult to put the pieces together. The boy didn't particularly like being outed, but at least she hadn't said anything about what he was.

Integra took a breath and studied the phone, almost like she could see her daughter through the connection. "What's done is done." she said. "But I **sincerely **hope you know what you're doing, Constance. You know how bad things will be for the two of you if he betrays you to someone."

"He wont." she said firmly. "He promised to keep it just between the two of us. He hasn't even told **Fred**, and that's saying something. I trust him completely."

Mihnea quirked a brow. He had to admit that was an impressive feat. The twins were inseparable. There was nothing the two of them didn't share – including information about things they did individually. For George to not tell his twin something he knew was an enormous display of respect for Connie's wishes. There were still plenty of things about Weasley he wasn't sure about, but that one small thing made him think better of him. He glanced around.

"That is pretty big." he admitted out loud. "The twins tell each other everything."

Uncle Edmund studied him for a moment, then glanced back at the phone sitting in the middle of the desk. "Alright, what's the other thing you needed to tell us?"

"You guys wanted to know if anything unusual was going on in the magical world." Constance reminded them. "I found something. Well, George did actually, but I told him to let me know if anything weird was going on, so he told me about it."

Everyone sat forward in interest. "What iz eet?" Pip asked.

"Well, first of all, Harry left his house about a week ago after accidentally casting a spell on his aunt to make her blow up like a balloon and float off somewhere. He's staying at the Leaky Cauldron until we get there to buy supplies. The Weasleys are going to bring him home to stay with them until school starts." the girl informed them. "But the moment Harry got to Diagon Alley, the owners of the Leaky Cauldron were waiting for him and had a room ready – like they knew he was coming. Fudge showed up and told Harry that they'd found his aunt, removed the spell she'd been under, then obliviated her so she wouldn't remember anything. Harry's letter made it sound like Fudge thought it wasn't worth punishing him over."

Mihnea's brows furrowed. "How did Potter 'accidentally' cast a spell on his aunt?"

"I didn't get all the details, but it was something about the woman calling his mother a 'defective bitch'." she replied. "Harry got pissed about it and lost control."

_Ah._ Well, if that was the case, then the woman fully deserved whatever she got in Mihnea's opinion. You didn't go around insulting someone's mother. "But the Ministry always makes a huge deal about underage wizards using magic if it's not a life or death situation."

"Exactly." she said. "They're covering up for him, and everyone here thought it was really odd. Then tonight when Mr. Weasley came home from work, he pulled Mrs. Weasley off to talk to her about something where the rest of us couldn't hear it. Fred and George have invented these things called extendable ears, so they decided to test them..."

"Extendable ears?" Edmund questioned, looking interested.

"Oh, it's a listening device." Connie explained. "They look just like human ears. You keep one with you, then stick the other in or near the room you want to listen in on. The hidden ear goes invisible so no one can see it and while it's activated you can hear everything that's going on around it."

Constance's dad blinked, then glanced at Syn. "That's... actually a** brilliant **idea. If they're made with magic, no technology would be able to pick up on them."

"I told you they were smart." Connie said. "Anyway, Fred and George were testing them out to make sure they were working right and they picked up on the conversation Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were having. Apparently, one of Voldemort's followers has escaped from Azkaban prison. A man named Sirius Black. Mr. Weasley said the Minister is afraid they may have made a mistake by not being more forceful in that meeting with you. Fudge believes that now that there's a dark wizard who is known for being a supporter of Voldemort on the loose, he's going to stir up the vampires and have them attack more muggles than they already have been."

Seras' eyes went wide and she leaned toward the phone. "Do you think the Ministry is going to ignore our agreement with them and start sending aurors out again?"

"I have no idea. George said his dad didn't say anything about that." Constance said. "They sort of... figured out the twins were listening in after that, so they didn't hear much else. All I know is that the Ministry is saying that because Harry was the one who wound up defeating Voldemort when that curse backfired, Black is going to hunt him down to get revenge. They're going to send the dementors from Azkaban to guard the school in case this guy shows up there looking for him."

"**Dementors!**" Mihnea questioned, shocked. "They can't do that can they?"

"I imagine that Fudge can do just about anything he wants if there's a mass murderer on the loose." Constance replied.

Aunt Integra frowned. "What are dementors?"

"They're dark creatures who look like skeletons wrapped in black shrouds." Uncle Ed told her. "Muggles can't see them. They feed on all the good, happy memories a person has. Just being near one will send most people into a depression so severe they're not able to do much more than sit and stare at the wall. That's probably why they use them as prison guards."

"The magical world uses them for executions too." Mihnea piped up. "The worst criminals are sentenced to the 'dementor's kiss'. They clamp down on your mouth and suck the soul right out of you. I've heard people who watch it have nightmares about it for weeks afterward."

"And the Ministry is going to send them to the **school?**" Syn asked, looking horrified. "Those things attack anything that gets in their way. They aren't capable of distinguishing between different sorts of people. The goddamn **dementors** are more likely to kill a student than a serial killer who has to fight his way through the protective spells around the castle!"

"That's why I thought you'd want to know about it before we got there." Connie told them. "I don't know what the details are, but surely Dumbledore will make restrictions so they can't get to the parts of the school the students use all the time. Is there any way to fight a dementor if it tries to attack you?"

"Wizards and witches would use a patronus." Edmund replied. "They work for short amounts of time, but they'd eventually be drained of energy. There's a form of white sorcery that's much more powerful than a patronus, but it will take some time to learn it. You'll have to start practicing the second you get home."

That gave Mihnea pause. He had a lot of skill in the sorcery his mother taught him, but pure white sorcery was beyond his abilities. It had something to do with having the blood of a dark creature running through his veins. Knowing he'd have to be near dementors made him incredibly nervous. The more violent and painful the memories a person possessed, the more dementors were attracted to them. If they sensed him anywhere near them, he had no doubt they would find him an enticing subject to chase after.

The boy cleared his throat. "What would I do about them then?"

His mother looked at him, understanding his meaning. "You'll have to use a different strategy. Since you can't use white magic to block them, you'll have to do something to terrify them into leaving you alone."

And just how in the hell were you supposed to 'terrify' a dementor? With those creatures being the way they were, it didn't seem possible. He noticed his mom and dad were looking at each other. He recognized the expressions they both wore. Being a mated pair gave them the ability to have mental conversations with each other. It was weird, being around them when they did that, because you could never tell exactly what they were talking about. Finally, after a few moments of watching their unspoken conversation, Alucard's lips pulled into a wide grin.

"It appears that it's time for me to teach you to learn how to summon your familiar." the vampire told him.

The boy's eyes widened considerably. His father was going to teach him how to summon his familiar? He'd always made it sound like a complex thing that took ages to learn. It was a vampiric talent that only members of Alucard's bloodline could perform.

"You really think I'll be able to do that?" he questioned carefully.

The vampire narrowed his eyes. "You're my son. Your self-doubt is the only thing that will prevent you from summoning one."

Mihnea winced. He hated it when his dad did that to him. Learning how to use shadows and mental manipulation was one thing. Pulling a familiar out of himself was something completely different. He'd have to be able to find the damn thing, let it loose, then control it. The thought was... intimidating.

"But... how could I use it?" he asked. "I wouldn't be able to summon it up if there are any people around to see..."

His mother cleared her throat. "Dementors are selfish creatures. They know better than to attack something more powerful than them. Since you've never summoned your familiar before, it remains dormant. Asleep, so to speak. Once your familiar has been awakened, you wont have to actually summon it out unless there's a whole hoard of them. They would be able to sense it's presence within you and leave you alone."

He supposed that made sense, but he still wasn't sure what to make of it. But... if his father believed he could do it, then maybe he could. And if it was the only way to have some sort of protection from the dementors, then he needed to learn it. Mihnea just hoped it wouldn't take forever for him to master the skill.

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><p>A.N: You guys continue to be awesome, as always!<p>

Reviews, reviews! We love them so!


	36. Familiars and Truce Building

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

From what Mihnea understood, a vampire's familiar was a physical manifestation of the darkest, most bestial side of their soul. A creature that was an intrinsic part of them while remaining distinct enough to have it's own personality. They seemed to be made up of the same shadows he had already learned how to manipulate. Their size and shape could vary depending on the purpose they were being released for, but they always took on the appearance of the same animal. His father's familiar was the hell-hound – a fearsome black dog with six blood red eyes. Seras and Pip didn't utilize their familiars nearly as much as the master vampire did, but Mihnea knew what theirs were as well. His sister's was a dark, shadowy wildcat, while Pip's looked more like a large fox. The boy had also seen his family's familiars replicate themselves into several copies. Alucard himself could call up a whole herd of hell-hounds when he wanted, but each one seemed to operate as part of a unit rather than a unique and separate individual.

But these were only facts. Actually discovering what his familiar was and calling it up was a process Mihnea didn't find very enjoyable. It required searching deep within himself and studying all the dark, twisted facets of who and what he was. Things he'd rather not think about being there. He didn't like taking a good hard look at himself because at the end of the day, there were a thousand different aspects of who he was that scared the hell out of him. And any time one of them attempted to rise to the surface, he would quickly drop a lid down on it to keep it from coming out.

"Stop restraining yourself." he heard his father snap at him, sounding impatient. "You'll never make any progress if you keep holding yourself back."

Mihnea's eyes were closed to block out any distractions around him. Aunt Integra had ordered them to work on this outside, since there was no telling what would show up if he succeeded. The breeze rushing through his hair was a bit colder than it would have been during the day. The lack of sunlight caused the temperature to drop several degrees. He knew Alucard's harsh tone wasn't brought on by his lack of producing anything after several hours of working at it. His father was infinitely patient. He was getting upset because the boy had come within a hair's breath of success many times and every time he got close, the sensation of something monstrous about to appear frightened him into pulling back. He grit his teeth together in frustration.

"I'm **trying**." he told him.

"If you were **trying**, you would have been able to produce something by now." the vampire said. Though the boy couldn't see his face, the tone of his voice made it sound like he was sneering. "You are fighting what you are. Let **go **of it, Mihnea. Stop acting like a coward."

Mihnea's eyes snapped open, furious. He was **not** a coward. His father was standing right in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back and red eyes glowing across the distance between them.

"It makes you angry, does it?" he asked, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "**Good**. Get angry. Let it fill you until there's nothing left. **Lash out**."

He was goading him on purpose. Mihnea knew he was. Alucard had taunted him before to get him to produce his first set of shadows, which he immediately instructed to wrap around the master vampire's throat to choke him. His father believed that anger was a useful emotion when it came to learning. Being overwhelmed with fury caused one to snap and do things they normally wouldn't do when they were in full control of themselves. Maybe it was a cruel method of teaching, but the No Life King had never been accused of being anything other than a rampaging sadist. It was just the way he was. Even though his rational mind knew exactly what he was doing and why, Mihnea was too pissed to struggle against it. Watching him standing there, looking so superior and mocking after calling him a coward stoked his anger into a full rage. He felt his teeth lengthen into fangs and shadows appeared around him, poised to strike at his command.

Alucard's smirk widened into a grin. At his side, his own shadows twisted together to form Baskerville. The hell-hound crouched low to the ground and pulled his lips back from his teeth in a deep snarl.

"You want to fight me, boy?" he asked. "Come on then. Stop hesitating and attack!"

Not making any move to advance himself, the vampire merely lifted a finger and pointed at him. Baskerville leapt forward, knocking Mihnea onto his back. He snarled as the hell-hound's sharp claws ripped across his shoulder. The boy threw up an arm in an attempt to knock the animal off of him, but it sank it's teeth down just below his elbow and thrashed it's head. All the other strikes he made at it swiped right through it's body as if it were made of nothing more than air. It was nearly impossible to fight something made of shadows. They could solidify or become like mist at their choosing. This was a situation where you could only fight fire with fire.

Mihnea had no idea exactly how it happened. There was no real thought or active attempt made. It just seemed that something deep inside of him awoke and reared it's head. The shadows he'd summoned up before being attacked by Baskerville swirled together, growing larger and larger before slowly twisting into a recognizable shape. First came a massive clawed foot, then a huge black tail connected to a heavily muscled body. At the end of the corded length of neck, a large head appeared with glowing, hell-fire eyes and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. A pair of leathery wings on it's back snapped open and it roared at the hell-hound, sending him flying across the yard with a single swipe of it's tail. With the immediate threat taken care of, the beast whirled around and hunched low, keeping it's large eyes focused on Mihnea's father as if preparing to attack him if he sent anything else their way. Mihnea himself was so shocked by the animal's appearance he stayed on the ground, not noticing the blood seeping from his wounds or the enormous grin of pride spreading Alucard's face.

This... enormous, terrifying creature had come out of him. Mihnea's familiar was a goddamn **dragon**.

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><p>Constance had never seen George this nervous before. It appeared that her bout of nerves before meeting his parents was normal. Of course, now that her boyfriend knew the most important details about her family's identity, he was probably concerned because of all he'd heard about them in the magical world. It didn't help that Fred had taken to humming the funeral march whenever a mention of the upcoming meeting was made. She had no doubt he'd get over it once he saw her father in person. The plan was to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron at 8:30 and have a spot of breakfast there before going out to do their shopping for school. As both Hermione and Constance would be leaving for home right after, they had to bring their bags along.<p>

Once they had everything they would need for their excursion, everyone congregated in the Burrow's kitchen to floo to the pub. Her dad and Mihnea were already there waiting for them at one of the many tables. There weren't many patrons in that day, so the owners had no problem with them pulling more tables together so they'd all have a place to sit down.

"Good god, Bassarab's **huge**!" Ron whispered to her as he watched him help push furniture around the room. "He hasn't always been that tall, has he?"

Mihnea had gone through a growth spurt over the summer. She'd been gone only a week, but Connie was still surprised at how tall he'd gotten. It looked like he had grown a good two inches or so since she'd last seen him. Mr. Weasley and the twins were all just under six feet and her cousin still towered over them.

It seemed all the ruckus they were raising pricked Harry's interest. He peeked out over the landing upstairs where all the guest rooms were. When he saw who it was that was making all the noise, he quickly came down to join them. With them having come up with places for everyone, they all sat down and introductions were made. Mihnea was noticeably quiet and kept his head down on the table. Given that it was summer, it was a very early hour for him to be up and it didn't look like he was completely awake yet. When one of the pub's waitresses came over to take their breakfast orders, he didn't do much more than raise his head to mumble a request for coffee. He immediately put it back down and Edmund shook his head at him.

"My nephew had a long night last night, so you'll have to forgive him." he reported, giving him a pat on the back. He then focused on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "I hope it wasn't any trouble for Connie to stay the week with you. It looks like you have a house full already."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and waved a hand. "Oh, it was no trouble at all! Your daughter was an absolute joy to have with us. She was a perfect lady the whole time. You must be very proud of her."

Connie felt herself blush at the praise and her dad smiled before turning his attention toward Fred and George. "And you two must be the twins I've heard so much about." he said. "You'll have to forgive me, but which is which?"

Mrs. Weasley placed her hand on George's shoulder. "This is Fred, and the other is George." she told him.

Fred made a face at her. "Honestly woman! And you call yourself our mother? **I'm** Fred!"

"Well, I'm sorry Fred, but if you two didn't go switching all the time it wouldn't be such a bother to tell you apart!" she chided, giving him a soft tap on the back of the head.

George rolled his eyes at her. "George Weasley." he greeted, extending a hand. As Connie's dad took it, he jerked a thumb at his brother. "That's Fred."

Edmund politely took both of their hands and shook them. "Nice to finally meet you. I've been hearing some interesting things." he said, giving them both a playful smirk. He focused his gaze on George. "Like my daughter's penchant for showing affection through hitting. She got that trait from her mother, I'm afraid."

Connie felt her face go red in embarrassment. "Daddy...!"

Her father grinned and clucked his tongue at her. "I believe I heard something about you two being famous around school for your pranks?"

Both of the twins' eyes lit up at having their reputation mentioned, but Mrs. Weasley again butted in before they had a chance to speak. "You'll have to forgive them for that, sir." she said, shaking her head. "My boys can be a bit rambunctious, but I'm hoping they'll grow out of it."

Edmund made a small hand gesture. "That's just one of those things that goes along with being a boy, Mrs. Weasley." he commented, like it didn't bother him at all. "I was known for being a bit of a trouble maker myself in my younger days. I honestly think I'd be worried if a young man wasn't a bit rambunctious."

Connie just resolved herself to sit back and watch as he won everyone over. This was one of her dad's gifts. Being able to walk into a room and say absolutely anything and still make everyone around fall in love with him. He got the twins talking about their inventions (as much as they could with their parents around, anyway) and even offered a few tips as to the best way to start up a business. Once Fred, George and her father got in their initial 'bonding time' so to speak, everyone else started getting involved in the conversation too. When Mr. Weasley asked what sort of work Edmund did for the muggle government, all the boys listened in rapt attention as he told them how he was a defense contractor who owned factories that produced arms and ammunition for 'certain branches' of the military. That was about as far as he could go without revealing too much, but the explanation worked wonders. Ginny pretty much followed Connie's lead in staying quiet and listening to all the males go at it, but Hermione just had to make a comment or two.

"You work with **muggle** weapons?" she questioned, looking interested. "I've never heard of a wizard interested in that sort of thing before."

"My father was a muggle." Edmund explained. "He left everything to me when he died. Someone had to keep the business going, so I took it over." he sat back in his chair. "I've always preferred working with muggles. I know there are a lot of people in the magical world that don't think too highly of them, but they really are brilliant." he paused and glanced at Mr. Weasley. "Connie tells me you're fascinated by muggle society."

The man immediately nodded, looking like he'd hit the jackpot by encountering someone who worked more closely with them than he did. "Absolutely, sir!" he said with enthusiasm. "I suppose you know all about them from working and living with them. Tell me, exactly how do they keep those 'aero-planes' of theirs up in the air without magic?"

Connie had warned her dad in advance of Mr. Weasley's habit of asking strange questions like that, so Edmund was prepared. Without acting like he thought it was odd, he went into explaining the details of aerodynamics and propulsion while Mr. Weasley sat and looked completely enraptured. As the two of them were talking, the waitress finally came back with their food. Once Mihnea got the cup of coffee he wanted, he perked up and seemed more lively. He was even nice and polite to Mrs. Weasley when she spoke to him, which might have shocked the younger people at the table if they weren't so caught up with listening to her dad. Though she did notice Ron give a start and gape in their direction when his mother commented that Mihnea was a 'charming young man'. Everything was going over **wonderfully**. It wasn't until after breakfast was over that the more 'meaty' conversations were to be had.

As Mrs. Weasley began gathering up supply lists from everyone to see exactly what they were going to be buying, Mr. Weasley pulled Harry off to a far corner. Constance imagined it was to talk to him about the Sirius Black thing. With there being a possibility that the wizard might come after him, the boy deserved to know. Edmund took the opportunity to have a little private conversation of his own with George. When the girl noticed them walking away she moved to follow, but was stopped by a look from her father.

"Just a bit of small talk, Connie." he told her meaningfully. "It's nothing for you to be worried about."

Constance didn't know exactly what they were going to be talking about, but it had to have something to do with George knowing about their family. With her dad being the way he was, she didn't think he'd do anything to scare or intimidate him, but she still didn't like being left out. She'd have to find out what it was about later.

* * *

><p>Mihnea remained in his chair sipping at his coffee as Uncle Edmund had his little conversation with George, but he was paying attention. His acute sense of hearing could pick up on every small detail. They were mostly talking about Weasley knowing about Hellsing. His uncle was making sure the boy knew how important it was for him to keep quiet about it. From the laughter and gentle teasing tones, Mihnea could tell Ed liked him. He had been notorious for being a prankster in his younger years and though he was much more subtle about it now, he still indulged. He had been the one to teach him and Connie how to pick locks, hot wire cars, and build homemade bombs from the moment they were out of diapers, after all. He listened as George assured him he understood how important it was to keep it a secret. Uncle Edmund gave him a good pat on the back, then let him go. But Mihnea wasn't about to let Weasley rejoin his family for a shopping spree just yet. He wanted to have a little talk with him himself. He drank down the last bit of his now cooled off coffee, set the mug down on the table, then stood and grabbed George's arm as he tried to walk past.<p>

"Ow! Hey!" Weasley protested. "What do you think you're doing?"

Mihnea ignored him and dragged him just a little ways away from the table where everyone else was. This wasn't an important enough conversation to be where no one could hear. He just wanted to make sure they weren't interrupted. When he finally came to a stop, George jerked his arm free.

"Look Bassarab, I already know about you, so if that's what this is abou..." he began.

"Shut it, Weasley." he said, cutting him off. "This isn't about that."

"What do you want then?"

The boy narrowed his eyes in warning, then huffed. He'd been thinking about how he was going to do this ever since he'd found out about Connie telling him everything. He cleared his throat.

"You're dating my cousin." he began, looking at him seriously. "From the moment I found out about it, I didn't like it. And now she goes and tells you about us..."

"If this is some bid to get me to break up with her, it's not going to work." George interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest resolutely. "I told her I didn't care and I'm not going anywhere."

"Will you shut up and let me finish?" Mihnea snapped. "I don't want you to break up with her."

Weasley faltered, suddenly looking very confused. "Do what?"

He sighed, then glanced back at the table where everyone else was talking amongst themselves, getting ready to go out to get their school supplies.

"Connie is the closest thing I have to a little sister." he said, looking back at Weasley. "You have one, so you know what that's like. If someone were to go after her, it wouldn't matter what they said or did. They could be absolutely perfect and they still wouldn't be good enough, would they?"

George blinked at him, then looked over at Ginny. His expression slowly changed to one of understanding. "No... they wouldn't." he said in a low voice.

Mihnea nodded. "Constance likes you. I still don't think you deserve her, but you make her happy. And if she trusts you enough to tell you our secrets and you don't think less of her for them... then I'll trust you too." he held out his hand. "Truce."

Weasley looked shocked beyond belief, like he thought hell had just frozen over or something. He personally found himself wondering the exact same thing. He just admitted he was going to trust and be nice to one of the Weasley twins. Finally, after a very long moment that was beginning to cross the border into being awkward, George took his hand and shook it.

"Truce." he repeated.

When he moved pull away, Mihnea tightened his grip and pulled him forward slightly. He wasn't quite finished. "I am going to say this now so there won't be any surprises later. Constance is to be treated like a **queen**. If you **ever** hurt her or mistreat her in any way, shape, or form, I will beat you to within an inch of your life. Is that clear, Weasley?"

George studied him. "Crystal."

"Good." he said, finally letting go of his hand. "And don't steal ideas for your pranks from me anymore. You can ask first."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" the boy demanded, both upset and confused. "Fred and I have never stolen any ideas from you!"

"You turned a chandelier into a mass of cockroaches so it would fall on Malfoy." Mihnea reminded him, referring to an incident that occurred last year. "You never would have thought to do that if it weren't for Connie telling you about what I did the summer before."

George stared at him. "Wait. You... **you** were the one who did that?"

"Who the hell else did you think let loose an army of cockroaches on some idiot at a ball?" he questioned with a derisive sniff.

"No way!" the boy said, not believing it. "You don't seem the type."

Honestly, did he give off the impression that he was that straight laced? "Weasley, I have done things that would shock you."

"Like what?" he challenged.

Mihnea thought about it. "Let me put it this way: the last guy who came to our house and insulted my mother where I could hear it wound up with a teacup full of semen and a bout of Syphilis that lasted three months."

George eyes widened. "Sweet Merl..." he shook his head, looking like he was thoroughly impressed. "We're hanging out from now on and that's the end of it. Next round of torturing Malfoy is all yours and you get royalties from anything we do that comes from one of your ideas."

He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole 'hanging out' business, but royalties sounded promising. He honestly didn't care getting money out of things, but credit needed to go where credit was due. And he'd always considered torturing Malfoy to be worthwhile activity...

"Agreed." he said.

"Excellent!" George exclaimed in excitement. He turned to search out his brother. "Hey Fred! We've got ourselves a new mate! Come **listen** to this!"

* * *

><p>A.N: Just to clarify, the 'teacup full of semen and bout of Syphilis' Mihnea is talking about would have been done with magic. Just so no one's mind goes too far into the gutter about how he did it. And I'll leave it up to you to decide exactly <strong>who<strong> got that treatment. XD

Remember to leave a review!


	37. Good Luck Charm

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The remainder of summer was spent learning the methods for fending off dementors that Connie's dad and aunt Syn had come up with. Mihnea had already figured out how to summon his familiar, so the majority of their attention was focused on her while Alucard's lessons with her cousin centered around controlling and manipulating his familiar. Apparently, there were ways to make it smaller or larger depending on the circumstances. Constance couldn't imagine why Mihnea would ever need to make the thing bigger. A dragon was sizable enough on it's own without being forced to grow.

Her defense against the dementors would be a protective energy circle. It was a shield of living magical energy that surrounded the caster and formed a solid sphere around them, which would protect them on all sides. She gathered from her lessons that the shield held in all the emotions of the person or people within. Since dementors were blind and tracked their victims by the emotions they gave off, it would make her invisible to them.

"How is this supposed to help me fight them though?" she questioned during her final lesson on the subject. Constance would be going off to school tomorrow, and she still hadn't learned anything that could be used offensively.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." Her father said, giving her a serious look. "You aren't going to be fighting them. These circles are **strictly** for defense. They won't be able to sense your presence and they won't be able to cross it's boundaries." he told her. "It's not going to be easy for you to cast one with a dementor nearby. You'll need to block out your surroundings so you can focus."

Connie slumped a bit and nodded to show she understood. "Yes, sir." she said.

If dementors were as bad as she'd heard, then they were going to be a hell of a distraction. While she didn't like the idea of leaving them free to move about and do what they wished, maybe it was the best that she didn't try to fight them herself. They sounded right awful, and she hadn't heard of any specific way to kill one. Maybe they could only die naturally or something. That was an unnerving thought.

Edmund shut the large tome he had out on the table and pushed his chair back. "I think that's enough for tonight." he announced. "You need to get some sleep before leaving for school."

The girl blinked. They'd been up all night working on as much as they could before she had to go. It was nearly 3:30 in the morning. He wanted her to go to sleep now?

"I can sleep on the train." she said.

Her dad chuckled. "I know you can." he replied. "But you need to get a few hours of sleep in a bed. Train cars aren't very comfortable. You could sleep in one all day and not get any rest." he shot a passing glance back down at the books he'd been having her read from. "I think you're as prepared as you're going to be. Practice when you can and you'll be fine. Now go to bed."

She sighed at his shooing motion and got up from the table herself. "Yes, daddy."

Constance had managed to construct several large energy circles on her own many times. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could do it. But putting it into practice in a real world setting was going to be more challenging. If she wound up having to make a protective circle not long after arriving at school, she **was** going to need some rest so she'd have enough concentration for it.

* * *

><p>Though she had gone to bed the moment she'd been told to, there wasn't much sleep to be had. Connie's brain was too full of thoughts and musings to allow it. The excitement of returning to school with the worry about an escaped criminal and the new responsibility of being a sort of 'spy' for her family kept the girl awake for several hours. Needless to say, when Rebecca came in to wake her up at 9:00, she wasn't the least bit happy about it. Only a few hours of sleep left her more exhausted than when she first went to bed. She rolled over and pulled her pillow over her head.<p>

"Ten more minutes." she muttered.

She didn't have to look at her governess to know the woman probably had her hands on her hips and a deep frown on her face. "Absolutely not, Miss Hellsing." she said firmly. "You're going to get up right this instant. Have you even packed your trunk yet?"

Constance's eyes snapped open. No, she hadn't packed her truck yet. She intended to do it before going to bed last night, but forgot about it after her lesson. She bolted upright in bed, throwing off the covers as she went.

"I'm awake!" she exclaimed, then rolled out onto the floor and scuttled toward her trunk.

Rebecca sniffed. "That's what I thought. Do you need help with anything?"

"I think I've got everything..." the girl replied, looking around. Most of the things she needed for school were already laid out on and around her dresser. She'd just have to put them into her luggage. "Thank you, though."

The dark haired woman nodded. "Alright then. Hurry up with your packing, then come downstairs for some breakfast before you leave."

Rebecca pulled the door shut behind her and left Connie to her work. It honestly didn't take too long to toss all of her things into her trunk. The one thing she had to search for was her copy of _Introductory Geomancy._ She'd been glancing over the contents of the new textbook when she had free time. After a bit of a search, she found the tome laying just under the edge of her bed. She pulled it out and placed it into her trunk with the rest of the books and snapped it shut. The large piece of luggage was dragged off the bed and she grabbed Archimedes cage before heading out of her room to go downstairs.

She arrived at the kitchen for breakfast at precisely 9:27. Her adrenaline rush from waking up was beginning to fade by that point and it showed. The plate of toast and marmalade jam sitting in front of her was hardly touched.

"What time did you go to bed?" Her mother asked studying her with a frown.

Constance lifted her head from the table where she'd been resting it and attempted to blink the tiredness out of her eyes. "About four this morning..."

Integra's good eye narrowed. "Damn it, I **told** Edmund about keeping you up late." she said, sounding miffed.

Connie held up a hand to stifle a yawn. "I asked him to do some last minute stuff with me." she told her in a scratchy sounding voice. "And I can sleep on the train. We wont get to the school until late this afternoon."

The knight still didn't look happy about it, but finally relented. She pointed to the plate sitting in front of the girl. "Eat your breakfast, Constance. It'll be the last decent thing you have before supper, and I'm not going to have you starving yourself."

The girl had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes up to the ceiling. Was that some kind of parent thing? She had never once done something to give the impression she starved herself and yet, if she ever ate less than usual or skipped a meal, that was the first thing that came out of their mouths. She took a couple of bites of her toast to satisfy her.

When Mihnea came down with his trunk, he was shockingly chipper. It probably had something to do with him going out on a mission last night. Connie heard he had beheaded a vampire with that dragon of his, then commanded the creature to eat the remains. Alucard had been impressed by the ferocity of the action. Trust her cousin, with the blood running through his veins, to be put into a good mood by killing something that way.

Constance managed to get down half of her piece of toast before it was time for them to leave. Despite her current state of being half asleep, she had enough presence of mind to double check that her permission slip for Hogsmeade had been signed. (Not that not having one would stop her from going after George showed her the secret passage that led to Honeydukes.) Jackson came to collect them, and her mother wished them both a good school year and gave them an additional warning to look after themselves with that escaped wizard on the loose.

The ride to King's Cross itself seemed much shorter than usual – which probably had something to do with her dozing during most of it. The second they arrived at the station and stepped out of the car, she found herself tripping over something. Mihnea swore up and down there was nothing there, but Constance point blank refused to believe she was tripping over her own feet. She wasn't that damn clumsy.

"Give me that thing before you hurt yourself." he said, pulling the handle of her trunk out of her hands. "You worry about Archimedes and I'll handle the luggage."

_Oh fine,_ she thought. She may as well let him, since he obviously wasn't leaving any room for argument. He went through the barrier first, pulling both trollies along with him, while Constance followed behind. When they were on the other side, Mihnea turned to drag their trunks over to the luggage car to get them loaded up. As he was passing things off to the man inside, someone leapt out from behind the other side of the car and startled the hell out of Connie.

"George!" she exclaimed when she identified who it was. "What the hell are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?"

The boy grinned and put an arm around her waist. "Well, you looked like you were about to fall out, so you needed a good scare." he replied, then looked her over. "What's up? You not sleep last night?"

"I was busy." she replied with a yawn. "I only slept two hours. When we get on the train, I intend to pass out and not wake up until we get there."

George clucked his tongue at her. "Oh, poor thing." he said teasingly, then looked over at her cousin who had just handed off her trunk to be put with the rest of the luggage. "Mihnea."

"George." he greeted with a nod. "You have a good summer?"

The boy next to her shrugged. "Not bad. Yours?"

"I had an **excellent** summer." Mihnea said with a wide grin, showing off his unusual bright mood.

It was a bit odd to watch the two of them being nice to each other and actually using their proper names rather than 'Bassarab' and 'Weasley'. Constance knew they had come to some sort of agreement during their meeting at Diagon Alley to get supplies, but it was still going to take some getting used to. Mihnea didn't even say a word about George having his arm around her. The two boys engaged in idle chit chat until the whistle sounded to signal the students they needed to finish boarding. It was when they separated to head to their respective cars that George leaned down to whisper to her.

"That was kind of scary." he commented. "What's got him in such a merry mood today?"

Constance shrugged lightly. "He got to go hunting last night."

George froze mid-step. "Hunting?" he asked, then peered around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation. His voice dropped lower. "Like... **hunting,** hunting?"

"Yes,** hunting**, hunting." she said with a sniff, confirming she wasn't talking about an 'animal hunt'.

He looked thoroughly impressed and fascinated by the idea. "Wow... I didn't know they would let you guys do that yet. Isn't it dangerous?"

As they were walking down the aisle, looking for the compartment that Fred had taken over, Constance couldn't help but quirk a brow. Did she actually just hear George Weasley question whether something was **dangerous**?

"Of course it's dangerous." she replied. "And I'm not allowed to go out yet. Mom says my aim needs to get better first."

And Constance had been working on that as much as possible. Her and Mihnea's target practice sessions in the Forbidden Forest were a huge help. Her parents said that if she kept making progress, she might be able to go out on a mission once this school year was over. She sincerely hoped so, because being left behind all the time was starting to get annoying.

The conversation had to be dropped once they found the sitting area Fred had holed up in. Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson were there as well, and it looked like the two boys were in the middle of some sort of wizarding gambling game. There were brightly colored tiles strewn across a small conjured table, seemingly at random, and stacks of galleons, sickles, and knuts sat to the side. Constance imagined Angelina was there to serve as Fred's good luck charm. She didn't know exactly what the deal was, but they seemed to have a... 'slightly more than friends, but not quite dating' thing going on between them. Fred was the sort that wouldn't be tied down to any one girl for long, and Angelina didn't seem to mind him flitting about. He always wound up coming back to her in the end. Poor Lee had a raging crush on her, but Fred beat him out for her attention every time. It was a credit to the strength of their friendship that the two boys didn't get into any real fights or arguments over it.

"I play the winner!" George announced as they entered the compartment.

Fred and Lee both looked up from the table.

"Oh, hey guys!" Jordan greeted. He shot a sideways look at Fred, then cleared his throat. "I'm getting pummeled here. You mind if I borrow your girlfriend?" he asked.

"**Borrow** me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "What for?"

"For luck, of course!" he said smartly. He held out a pair of dice. "Just blow on these for me."

What was the deal with people who gambled being so superstitious? Some of the Wild Geese were like that when they played poker. It didn't particularly matter who the girl was, but they seemed to think that just having a female near them while playing the game gave them an edge. Constance rolled her eyes, but sat down next to him all the same. There was no point in begrudging him the small request.

"Fine." she said, then pointed at George. "But if he winds up playing you, I'm switching sides."

George grinned and took a seat in the corner next to the window to watch the game's progression. "I get first dibs, mate."

Lee made a face as if he didn't like it, but didn't argue. "Fair enough." he thrust the dice toward her again. "Give us some luck, then."

Obligingly, Constance blew on the dice, and Lee tossed them onto the board. It was an odd sort of game to watch. The whole point was to match up the colors, shapes, and numbers of the tiles by moving them around – though the rules for moving them were beyond her. Everything looked haphazard to her eyes. While she didn't know exactly how one was supposed to keep score, it seemed that Lee was so far behind Fred that he stood no chance of winning, even with her 'good luck'. The other Weasley twin wound up scraping all the money to his side of the table once the game was over.

"Ready to lose some money, Georgie?" he asked with a grin as he set up the board again.

George and Lee traded places so he could sit across from his brother. "You're the one who'll be losing, Freddie." he said, then extended his hand to take the dice.

Angelina and Constance looked at each other. The older girl shook her head, looking just as bemused by their behavior as Connie felt.

With Fred and George knowing each other well enough to anticipate each other's movements, the game went on for ages. Every move they made was carefully calculated and considered before doing anything. Constance could almost see the gears in George's mind turning. _He knows I'll probably do this, but I know he knows it... but he knows that I know he knows it... but then, I know that he knows that I know he knows it, so... _Of course, that was all in her own imagination, but it was entirely possible that was what was running through both of their minds. She watched the game as long as she could, but her exhaustion from lack of sleep the night before finally won her over. About halfway through their epic battle of tiles and dice, she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>A.N: I have brothers that are about the same age as Fred and George would be at this point, and here's their perception of how dating works - ~ahem~ You go 'shopping' on facebook and pick out the top five hottest girls and starting talking to them. You actually 'go with' the hottest one first, then when you get bored with her, move on to the next. Once you've worked your way through the 'hottness chain', you start over and go 'shopping' again. That way, if a girl ever breaks up with you, you have a new one on your arm quickly. If you find two or more girls who are of equal hottness, you 'go with' bothall of them at the same time and take care that they don't find out about it.

I keep telling myself that they're just teenaged boys and haven't learned yet. I'm all about being open and accepting of different types of relationships, but I can't understand how anyone can be madly in love with someone one minute, then when they break up with you be perfectly fine and find a new person to be madly in love with five minutes later.

This new generation is beyond my level of comprehension. O_o I feel old.


	38. Train Search

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Everything was so bright. Too bright, to be honest. The grass in the open field was a vivid, neon green color and grew tall enough to brush at the knees. If one were to sit down in it, they would completely disappear. In and amongst the blades of grass, a wide variety of flowers grew. Daisies, snap-dragons, irises, and lilies... and each type blazed brightly with unearthly looking colors that seemed to glow and shimmer if you looked at them long enough. It was so beautiful.

Constance honestly had no idea where she was, but she felt perfectly safe there. It probably helped that there was a girl her age with her. A pretty, thin, slightly wild looking girl about Connie's height, with bright blue eyes and hair that was too brown to be red, but too red to be brown. Chestnut. Wasn't that what you were supposed to call that shade? They both were sitting cross-legged in the grass, the long blades reaching high over their heads while they wove selected flowers they had picked into head wreaths. Constance was trying to tie a pink daisy to an iris without breaking the delicate stems when she suddenly realized that this wasn't normal. She was supposed to be on the train to school, wasn't she? Not sitting in a field of flowers making head ornaments with some mysterious wild girl she'd never seen before.

"Um..." she began, studying her surroundings, then her strange companion. "Where am I? And who are you?"

The girl sitting across from her lifted her eyes from her work. "I'm your gun, Persephone. And this is spirit land. See?"

One of her fingers pointed upwards and Connie followed it. Hanging high in the glimmering sapphire sky was a sun with an exuberant smile on it's face. It was so happy that it bounced around, as if dancing the only way it could without arms or legs. She'd heard various members of her family talk about this place before. The so called 'spirit land' was where the gun spirits seemed to reside. When they wished to speak to one of their owners, they could pull them into it while they slept.

"So... I'm dreaming?" Connie asked, not daring to assume anything.

Persephone nodded. "I've wanted to come out and warn you about things several times, but you're always surrounded by people who don't need to see me and you never keep a mirror with you when you're alone. You need to work on that, Miss Hellsing."

It was strange to be given instructions by a spirit, but Persephone's voice was so calm. Even with her untamed hair flying around her and dressed in ripped jean shorts and a white tank top that bore dirt smudges like she'd been playing around in the earth, she was still surrounded by an air of quiet peacefulness. Like there was absolutely nothing that could bother her.

"You're the spirit of my gun?" she repeated carefully.

The girl smiled. "Of course, Miss Hellsing." she told her, then held out a flower. "Peony? It would look great next to the irises."

This was too strange for words. Connie wordlessly took the offered flower, then went back to studying her.

"Um... I don't mean to be rude, but you don't really act like the other gun spirits I've seen..."

"Well, it would be boring if all of us were the same, wouldn't it?" Persephone pointed out. "I'm a firm believer in Zen. Do you meditate at all? You should try it. It's excellent for calming the nervous system."

Wow, the girl thought to herself. So the spirit of her gun was a combination of a wild nature child, and a Zen Buddhist. Could you have put any two more opposite things together? She cleared her throat again.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked her. "I've heard spirits only bring their owners here when something important is going on."

Persephone blinked at her, then finished up her wreath of flowers. She positioned it on the crown of her head, then sat up straighter.

"Oh right, about that. I wanted to tell you something." she said, then leaned forward. "Those dementor things your dad was teaching you how to defend yourself against? A group of them are going to board the train you're on soon. I'm not sure why, but I think they're looking for something."

Constance gave a start, her eyes going wide. "Dementors are coming onto the train?"

"Not this very second, but they will soon." Persephone corrected. "All the same, you should probably go on and wake up so you'll be prepared for them." she dropped her voice a hair. "They're worse than what you imagine when reading about them. When I first saw them, it looked like a group of grim reapers floating around. You seriously need to learn meditation, Miss Hellsing. Do you want me to give you a quick run through? It really helps, I promise."

This girl was telling her that dementors were about to board the train, and she wanted to know if Constance wanted a quick meditation lesson? She shook her head.

"I think I'll pass." she said, not sure what she was supposed to be feeling at a time like this. "I... think need to go."

"Have it your way then." Persephone replied with a shrug. "But do try to keep a mirror around. I can't help you very much if I can only talk to you while you're sleeping."

The girl gave her a nod of understanding. That was reasonable. She pushed herself up from the ground and looked around. It looked like there was nothing but grass for miles around.

"How... how do I get out of here?"

"Oh!" the female spirit exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing she'd forgotten something. "I'm sorry! Just close your eyes and I'll make sure you get back."

It sounded incredibly strange, but Connie figured that the girl had to know what she was talking about if she was able to bring her here in the first place. Following her instructions, the girl closed her eyes and waited.

* * *

><p>There were no blinding flashes of light or overt feelings to indicate she was no longer dreaming. Only a subtle shift from the gentle breeze and scent of flowers and grass, to the soft rumbling of the Hogwarts Express traveling over the tracks. Connie's eyes slid open and she saw Lee and Fred propped up against each other with their eyes closed, a thin line of drool hanging from Jordan's open mouth. They must have fallen asleep and slid sideways in their seats to wind up that way. There was no way in hell the two boys would have knowingly put themselves in that position. Angelina was no where to be seen, and George... Constance pushed herself upright and found she had to slide herself under an arm that was holding her. George was asleep as well and it seemed she'd been curled up in his lap, laying on him like he were a pillow. She shot a quick glance at the other two boys, then poked at his chest.<p>

"George." she whispered. When she got no response, she took hold of his shoulders and shook him. "George, wake up."

He shifted slightly then opened his eyes to blink at her. "Huh?" he peered around, looking confused for a moment, then took in the position they were in. A slow smile crept across his features. "Hey Connie, you know if you wanted to molest me you don't have to wait until I'm asleep to do it."

Constance's mouth fell open in shock and she gave him a sharp punch to the shoulder. "Shut your mouth, George Weasley!" she exclaimed, then clamped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she'd been.

She didn't have much to worry about because the two sleeping boys made no overt reaction to her outburst. Jordan just gave a small snort and Fred muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Can I get the pink bowtruckle, mom?'

Connie blew out a rush of air in relief. "Where's Angelina?" she asked quietly, glancing back at him.

"She got pulled off to sit with her friends after the last game." George told her. He studied her carefully, noticing her worried expression. "What's wrong?"

Connie didn't know how to even begin explaining. She pushed herself out of his lap and cleared her throat. "There's someth..."

Her words were cut off when the train rocked violently. The force of the motion knocked both of the boys sitting across from them wide awake. They bolted upright and looked around with wide eyes.

"What the..." Fred began, only to be pitched out of his seat when the compartment gave another hard shudder. "Hey!"

The brakes squealed as the train came to a complete halt. Connie scuttled over to the window to look outside. They were on the long bridge that marked the halfway point of their journey to Hogwarts. The sky outside was filled with nasty looking storm clouds and a light drizzle that threatened to turn into a full downpour had begun to fall. It looked like nature itself was attempting to give a warning of what was coming. Loud, worried sounding conversations could be heard coming from the nearby compartments. None of the other students knew what was going on and everyone sounded concerned. When the girl pulled her eyes away from the window, she saw Lee had pulled open the door of their compartment and his head was stuck out in the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of something.

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed. Constance jumped forward and grabbed a handful of his dreadlocks to pull him back.

"**OW**! Merlin's beard, what's **wrong **with you?" Jordan shouted once she let go.

Constance was about to go off on him for being stupid enough to stick his head outside without knowing what the hell was out there, when a strong, oppressive feeling overwhelmed her. From the boys' expressions, they felt it as well. It was like all the happiness and light in the world was suddenly sucked away. Only a dark sadness remained, giving one the feeling of having to think through a fog. No... a fog wasn't quite right. It was worse than that. It was more like... mud. A thick, sticky kind of mud that you had to claw your way through to get a sense of anything more than the heavy darkness that took over your mind. The raindrops spattering against the outside of the window made thin trails of water that froze solid within moments. It didn't take long for the entire pane of glass to frost over completely. Their breath came out as mist as the temperature continued to drop, giving the air a sharp, frigid bite.

"Bugger me..." George whispered, staring at the door leading out to the hallway.

Without looking away, he grabbed at Connie's arm and tugged her back behind him. She wasn't quite sure what he planned to do if a dementor came in, but she definitely noticed the protectiveness of the action. All of them were standing now. There was no way to sit quietly in their seats and just wait for what was coming. Something had to be done. That depressive feeling grew stronger and stronger with every second that passed. Constance had been able to produce a protective circle large enough for her, but she couldn't leave the boys with nothing... Then an idea struck her. In situations where you couldn't pull enough energy up for something on your own, it was possible to pull it out of someone else. She'd only learned the theory behind it, but surely if she focused she'd be able to do it. Connie leaned forward to whisper in George's ear.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, low enough that only he could hear it.

He blinked and turned his head to glance at her over his shoulder. "Yes... Wha..."

"Don't ask any questions and don't fight me." she told him quickly in the same quiet tone. "I'll explain later."

Before he had a chance to protest or ask anything else about what she was doing, Constance placed her right hand flat on the center of his back and closed her eyes. All living things had an energy field surrounding them. The aura of a person was almost like a battery of stored energy. Not all of it was magical, but any form of energy could be converted into something useful with a little effort. Trying to focus through the haze draped over her mind was more difficult than the girl had imagined it would be, but she managed to claw her way through the murkiness and searched out sources of energy around her. The train was stopped over a river. It was far below the bridge, but she could sense the wild movement of it. Then there was George's aura – a pulse of bright energy that was comfortingly familiar. Cinnamon and gunpowder. She reached out with her mind and pulled from both sources, mixing them with her own personal energy to form a store she could use for construction. Once she was sure she had enough, Constance focused on directing it around all four of them to build a wall of protection.

_Form a sphere._ She instructed it in her mind. _All around us. Above and below, through the ceiling, __floor, and walls... _It was doing as it was told, but a lot slower than she would have liked. Connie could feel that foreboding feeling getting too close for comfort. Her eyes screwed shut even tighter with the effort she was putting into the casting. C_ome on, come on..._

Finally, the last bit of energy snapped into place over their heads and the circle was fully formed. The oppressive feel of the dementors was still present, but not nearly as overwhelming as before. She half wondered if the guys would say something about the sudden change, but she didn't hear them making any comments. When her eyes slid open, she found out why. They were a little distracted by what was going on in front of them.

Just beyond the glass door of their compartment, a dementor had it's back to them. Persephone's description was dead on. It **did** look like the grim reaper. Nearly ten feet tall, long and thin, with a flowing black shroud wrapped around it's skeletal body. It looked like it was pulling open the door of the compartment across from theirs to search inside. They could clearly hear the frightened whimpers of the students within. The creature remained there for a few moments before it was joined by a second which seemed to direct it's attention further down the train. The two dementors exited the compartment across from them and floated past. Neither of them even glanced in their direction.

Fred took a tentative step forward to peer out into the hall without actually opening the door. "Who's bright idea was it to let bloody dementors on the train?" he demanded, apparently feeling braver now that they were gone.

Out in the hall, a small group of students quickly ran past. It looked like they were trying to get toward the part of the car that had already been searched so they'd be around more people. Safety in numbers did seem like the best way to go in this situation, since no one knew if the creatures would come back through a second time. The four of them looked amongst each other and a silent decision was made to follow suit. Constance quickly dropped her protective circle so Fred and Lee wouldn't feel it when they walked out. But as she moved to follow, George pulled her back.

"What did you just **do**?" he asked, his hazel eyes searching her own for some sort of explanation for what had just happened.

Constance shushed him, then peered at the door to make sure no one was near enough to hear them. "My dad taught me how to build energy circles as a defense against the dementors." she told him once she was sure it was safe to speak. "I've never built one bigger than just for me, so I had to pull energy out of you to do it."

Considering that pulling energy out of a person without telling them what you were doing was the equivalent of psychic vampirism, Connie sincerely hoped George wouldn't be upset about it. But then, it was a complicated situation and she had asked him if he trusted her before doing anything... Thankfully, he didn't look angry.

"That's what that weird feeling was?" he asked, then drew in a breath when she gave him a small nod. "Holy..." he paused and shook his head. "You've** got **to teach me how to do that."

Connie's eyes widened a hair. "Teach you how to build a protective circle?" she said, making sure she'd heard him correctly. "I... I can try, but... George, you really want to learn sorcery? What would happen if your mother found out about you doing that?"

Mrs. Weasley had made it known that she thought sorcery was one of the most dangerous things a person could do. George gave her a look and snorted.

"If mom knew half the things me and Fred have done, she'd beat us until we couldn't walk." he told her. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Connie had to admit he had a point. Fred and George weren't famous at school for doing safe things... But she still didn't know how he would fare in a sorcery lesson. High magic was completely different than witchcraft. It required a different mindset and was incredibly difficult to learn. She'd been taking lessons since she was very young, so one could say it came easier to her because she was indoctrinated into how it worked. Someone who'd grown up with a basis in witchcraft would have a harder time because of all the rules they'd grown up learning that didn't apply to sorcery.

"Okay." she said at last, inclining her head. "But it's not going to be easy."

George slid an arm around her shoulders. "Since when have I ever cared about something not being eas..."

His words were cut off by a shrill, feminine scream that pierced through the air. It was coming from the back of the Gryffindor car. One could never be absolutely sure with a scream, but it sounded familiar.

"**NO**! Get out! I don't want it! **Get out of me**!"

All the color drained out of George's face. "Ginny..." he whispered, then dropped his arm and rushed out of the compartment.

Constance's suspicion was confirmed when she heard him say his sister's name. Another terrified shriek rang out and she bolted out into the hallway as well. What on earth was going on to make her scream like that? Students were still trying to make their way toward the front of the car, so it was hard to get past them in the narrow hallway. As she was trying to push her way through, Fred came running up behind. He must have recognized the sound of Ginny's voice as well.

"Get out of the bleeding way!" he shouted, sounding both irritated and nervous. "That's my sister!"

They finally managed to push through the mass of students who were made more frantic in their escape by the sound of screaming and caught up to George. As they ran up, they saw a a group of three dementors rushing down the hall away from them. It looked like they were being chased off by a large, glowing white... wolf? Seeing that the frightening creatures were being driven in the opposite direction, Connie and the twins quickly ran toward the compartment they had been at.

This must have been the room where Harry, Ron, and Hermione had chosen to sit. There was an older man with messy brown hair and a set of scars running across his face who was with them as well. His clothes had a threadbare appearance and they were a bit too big for him. Like he had lost a great deal of weight at some point and never bothered to replace them. Constance had never seen him before and immediately wondered who he was. However, before she could even think about asking about his identity, her attention was diverted by the state everyone was in. Harry was unconscious, laid across the seats on one side of the compartment like he had fainted. Ginny was curled up in a fetal position on the floor, rocking back and forth and muttering to herself while tears streamed down her face. Hermione was holding her in her arms, trying to get her to calm down. Both she and Ron – who was still pressed up against the wall looking panicked, were white in the face. Both of the twins dropped to their knees in front of their sister.

"What happened?" George questioned, taking in the way everyone looked.

Hermione looked up from comforting Ginny. "The dementors came in here and frightened everyone." she said in a shaky voice. "They did something to Harry to make him pass out. Then Ginny ran in..."

The younger girl's eyes were glazed over, haunted and fearful. "I could feel him inside of me." she whispered. "You Know Who... I could feel him in my head again..." her words broke off and her hands drew up to the sides of her face, clenching into fists as she whimpered. "Oh God, I didn't mean to let him in! I didn't mean... to... "

_Oh no..._ The dementor's presence made Ginny relive being possessed by the diary again. None of them knew what to do to help her. How were you supposed to get someone to calm down after going through something like that? The strange man in the compartment with them put the wand he was holding back into his pocket and crouched down next to the girls on the floor.

"It's alright. They're gone now." he said in a smooth, soothing voice. "Try to calm down. Take slow, deep breaths."

He pressed the back of his hand to Ginny's forehead, then reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a bar of chocolate. He broke off a piece and offered it to her.

"Eat this." he told her. "It helps."

Ginny sniffled and studied him for a long moment before gingerly reaching out to take the offered bit of candy. The man gave her a gentle smile when she began nibbling at it. He rose up to take a more comfortable position on one of the seats, then started breaking off pieces of chocolate for everyone else. It was the oddest thing Connie had ever seen. He was giving them candy to calm down?

"Um..." she said, watching as he passed a piece of the chocolate bar to Hermione. "I'm sorry, but... what's that for?"

The man paused and looked down at her sitting on the floor. "Chocolate raises endorphin levels in the brain." he told her. "It helps dissipate the depressive effect given off by the dementors."

_Oh. Wow._ Constance never would have thought about something like that. Ron looked like he was trying to shake Harry awake, but the man waved him off the task.

"Let him rest." he instructed calmly. "Sleep will help him recover. He'll do better if he wakes up on his own."

Ron looked like he didn't much like the idea of being told not to wake his friend from a dead faint, but this man obviously knew what he was doing. From the way his wand had been out when they first entered, Constance had a feeling that glowing wolf she'd seen chasing the dementors was a patronus he had cast. The chocolate he gave out seemed to be working as well. Ginny calmed down enough to stop crying and climbed up off the floor with Hermione's assistance to sit down in one of the seats. It was several minutes before Harry showed signs of waking up. The moment he started blinking, the man helped him sit up.

"Alright, take it easy." he said, then gave him a larger piece of chocolate than he'd offered to anyone else.

Harry took the candy, then blinked at everyone else in the compartment with him. "Wha... what happened?"

"The dementors were searching the train for Sirius Black." the man reported. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, making sure he was okay before rising from his seat. "Eat." he said, pointing at the chocolate. "You'll feel better. I'm going to go have a word with the conductor. Stay put and don't go wandering around."

That last bit seemed to be directed at Connie and the twins. Considering that they didn't know exactly where the dementors were now, it was an understandable warning to give. They all nodded in agreement and the man stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. Fred and George both watched the door closely, then turned back around the moment he was out of sight.

"Who **is** that?" they asked in unison.

"His suitcase says R.J. Lupin." Hermione reported, pointing up at a piece of luggage resting in the overhead storage rack. "He was sleeping until the dementors came in."

It was strange for an adult to be riding on the train. Only students took the train to school, so there wasn't much of a reason for him to be there...

"Do you think he's a new professor?" Connie piped up quickly.

"If he is, he had better be our DADA teacher." Ron commented. "That was** brilliant** the way he sent those things running." he paused to look at Harry in concern. "You alright, mate? We thought you were having a fit or something."

Harry slowly nodded, taking small bites of his chocolate. " I think so..." he said haltingly. "I... heard something. A woman screaming."

"She was screaming." the twins said together, both pointing at the young girl they were bracketing. "Scared the devil out of us."

Hermione shook her head. "Ginny didn't come in until after Harry fainted." she said, then glanced at him sideways. "No one was screaming before that."

The boy looked disturbed by the information. If no one had been screaming before he fainted, then he must have heard something from a memory... Constance went still as she thought of something.

"I've heard dementors are more attracted to people with painful memories." she said quietly. "Maybe that's why they focused on you. I mean, Ginny was possessed once, and you..." _Were there when your parents were murdered._ She finished in her mind. Constance didn't feel right saying it out loud after what had just happened. Everyone already knew what she meant.

Harry glanced at Ginny and swallowed nervously. "But... none of you... passed out?"

Ron shook his head. "No, but I felt weird though. Like I'd never be happy again."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Harry then turned his attention to Connie and the twins. "Not you either?" he asked, sounding like he felt like a freak for being the only one who lost consciousness.

Fred shook his head. "They didn't even come into our compartment." he said, then shot Connie a sideways glance. "Not that I'd blame them. They were probably scared that she'd jump on them or something."

Connie's mouth fell open. "What the bloody hell? I'm not bad enough to scare off a dementor!"

"Could have fooled me." he said, then turned his attention back to the trio and jerked a thumb in her direction. "She nearly ripped Lee's dreadlocks out when he was trying to figure out what was going on. He swears a couple are loose now."

"Oh please." she said with a sniff of irritation. "His hair isn't going to fall out just because I pulled on it. And he should have known better than to stick his head out while there were dementors on the train. What if one had been right outside the door?"

Fred quirked a brow questioningly. "We didn't know about the dementors until later. How did **you** know they were on the train?"

_Oh shit. _She'd just said something she had no business saying. George shot her a curious look of his own. He wondered how she had known about the dementors before anyone else too.

"Look, you guys were the ones who heard your dad say the dementors were going to be guarding the school until Black was caught." she said, thinking quickly. "If he wanted to get into the school, the easiest way for him to get there would be to hide on the train. It makes perfect sense for the dementors to be the ones to search it before we reach the castle."

Hermione blinked. "That's... a good point actually." she said. "I didn't think of that."

_Thank God for that girl's brain. _Constance thought. No one would question the logic of the idea if Hermione vouched for it.

* * *

><p>A.N: On a completely random side note, my dad is a clinical therapist. On the desk in his office at work, he keeps a glass jar with a label that reads: <em><strong>Dementor-Be-Gone<strong>__ – endorsed by Professor Remus J. Lupin. "It helps, it really does." _And an illustration of a dementor with a red hatched circle over it. (Dad came up with the idea and I made the label.) It's filled with Hershey's kisses. So whenever he sees a patient suffering from depression, they get a dose of chocolate to make them feel better. :) We have a huge jar of it at home as well. Anytime someone in my house is feeling down, my father declares that we have an infestation of dementors and we all have to take a dose of _**Dementor-Be-Gone**_ to make them leave.

Along with raising endorphin levels in the brain that promote mild feelings of euphoria, chocolate also helps ease the pain of tension headaches. I have no idea how or why it works, but it does. So pretty much, if you guys ever suffer from headaches while depressed, load up on the chocolate!

Review, please and thank you!


	39. Geomancy

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"You dropped Astronomy for Geomancy?" Ron questioned as he read over Connie's schedule. "Why?"

"It sounded interesting." the girl replied as she pulled the parchment out of his fingers. "My dad wanted me to take Arithmancy and I already promised Hermione I would take Ancient Runes with her. I really wanted the class, so something had to go. The letter from McGonagall said she would approve dropping one primary class if your grades were high enough..."

"Yeah, but for **Geomancy**?" the ginger headed boy repeated, looking completely befuddled by the idea. "No one uses it anymore! Who needs to know anything about a bunch of rocks?"

Constance sighed. "It's the study of earth magic and the magical properties of rocks and crystals, Ron. And there are obviously still **some** people that use it, or there wouldn't be a class in it would there?" she said with a roll of her eyes. She sat forward and peered down the table. "You're taking it too, aren't you, Neville?"

Neville looked up from his breakfast and nodded. "Professor Sprout said with how I'm doing in Herbology, I might be good at it. My gran says I need to find something I can do..."

The poor boy had awful grades in every one of his classes except for Herbology. If he had a green thumb, then elemental earth magic would be right up his alley. It would be good for him to finally find his niche.

After the awful events that had taken place during their journey to school, everyone was looking forward to getting back into the normal routine of classes again. Of course, there was still a dark cloud that hung over them. At the start of term feast the night before, Dumbledore gave a formal announcement about the dementors of Azkaban guarding the school until Sirius Black was caught. They technically weren't supposed to come onto the grounds proper, but the threat of them was still enough to make everyone feel nervous.

Despite that, there were a few lighter pieces of information given out during the feast. The mysterious man who'd given out chocolate after their encounter with the dementors was indeed a new professor. Remus Lupin would be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Constance found herself actually looking forward to it this year. The man had demonstrated that he knew his stuff and after the last two teachers she'd been forced to endure, he would have to be a drastic improvement. To everyone's surprise, Hagrid would be serving as a teacher this year as well. Constance wasn't taking Care of Magical Creatures like many of the other students were, but if that man was in charge of lessons, then they were guaranteed to be interesting. Dangerous too, most likely. Hagrid was a wonderful, loveable person, but he did have a bad habit of misjudging how wild some of his most beloved creatures could be. Constance would have to wait until after classes to hear about it. Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't have Care of Magical Creatures until the block right after lunch. Speaking of Hermione's classes... Connie glanced sideways at her.

"What class did you wind up dropping?" she asked.

The girl blinked at her for a moment as if she didn't understand what she was talking about. "I didn't drop anything."

"How on earth are you taking all these classes, then?" Constance questioned, confused. "You're already in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with me, so how are you able to take Care of Magical Creatures as well?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, seeming to notice the strangeness of it as well.

"You're supposed to be in Divination with me and Ron too." Harry said. "That's four new classes!"

Ron frowned. "Divination and Ancient Runes are held at the same time. There's no way you could take both unless you were in two places at once..."

Hermione sniffed at the pair of them. "Oh, honestly! How on earth can a person be in two places at once?" she asked. "I discussed everything with Professor McGonagall over the summer and she worked out a special schedule for me."

_Special schedule?_ Constance wondered. Maybe they had come up with a way for her to work on the assignments like a correspondence course or something. She started to ask about it, but was interrupted before any words could come out of her mouth.

"Hey, Potter! Is it true?"

All four of them immediately stopped what they were doing and peered over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting there grinning like an idiot. What the hell did he want this early in the morning? Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Is what true?" he asked.

"What everyone is saying about what happened on the train." Draco replied. "You **fainted**, Potter? I mean, you actually fainted?"

On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle put their hands to their foreheads to imitate feminine looking faints. The action sent all of the Slytherins sitting nearby into titters of amusement. Ron gave Draco a hateful glare and grabbed Harry's shoulder to pull him back around.

"Shove off, Malfoy." he spat.

Draco's expression changed to one of offense. "Not very friendly this morning are you, **Weaselby**?" he said harshly, deliberately botching his name. "It's not my fault your friend there faints like a girl at the smallest thing. What, does he scream when he sees someone wrapped in a bedsheet too?"

Harry and Ron both got so pissed they jumped up from the table, looking like they were going to beat Draco's sorry ass right there. Thankfully, someone stepped in to diffuse the fight before it got ugly.

"That's rich coming from a coward like you, Malfoy."

Constance looked over to see her cousin walking up with his bag of books hanging from his shoulder. Fred and George were only a few steps behind. It looked like they had all been heading to class, but stopped when they heard the altercation. Mihnea came to a halt just to the left of where Connie and the others were sitting. Draco stared at him, open-mouthed, then glared.

"**Excuse** me, Bassarab?" he questioned in a low tone.

Mihnea just quirked a brow. "You suddenly don't understand English? I said you're a coward. What were **you** doing when the dementors showed up?" he tapped his finger against his chin like he was thinking. "Oh, that's right. You were cowering under a table crying for your mommmy, weren't you? That leaves you **loads** of room to be making fun of someone else."

Malfoy went white in the face and peered all around him. He looked completely mortified. Then his eyes turned hard again and he opened his mouth to speak.

Mihnea crossed his arms over his chest and glared him down. "Say something, Malfoy. I dare you."

Draco looked pissed beyond belief, but he still seemed to recognize that a getting into a fight with him wasn't the best thing for his health. He pushed himself up from the table in an angry flourish.

"Crabbe? Goyle? We're leaving."

Bassarab kept glaring at the three boys, making sure they weren't going to try anything else as they marched out of the Great Hall. Behind him, George nudged Fred in the side.

"See? I told you." he said. "Right handy to have around in a pinch, isn't he?"

Fred silently nodded in agreement, looking impressed by how quickly Mihnea got Draco to shut up. He gave both of them a passing sideways glance, then turned his attention to Harry.

"Malfoy is all bark and no bite, Potter." he told him. "You alright there?"

Harry blinked, taken aback that he was actually talking to him. "Uh... yeah. I'm fine."

Mihnea inclined his head. "I don't like the dementors either. With what they're capable of, one of them making a person pass out is nothing to laugh at."

_Wow._ Constance thought. Her cousin was in one of his 'nice' moods. But his mention of the dementors caught her attention. She had no idea what had happened in his section of the train, and this was the first time they'd been able to speak since arrving at school. She cleared her throat.

"Did they give you any trouble, by the way?" she asked.

Mihnea glanced at her and shook his head. "The dementors? Nope. None at all. They came in, looked around, and left." he paused to give her a meaningful look. "Quickly."

Ah. So his familiar being awakened must have succeded in scaring them off. That was good to know. She then turned her attention to the twins. It was a bit weird to see the three of them walking together. Not that she was going to complain about Mihnea not threatening to kick George's ass over the smallest thing. Ron seemed to think it was strange as well.

"Do... you three have class together or something?" he questioned, keeping a nervous eye on Mihnea to make sure he wasn't overstepping his boundaries by asking.

"Yep." The twins said together. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Should be loads of fun with the new teacher." Fred said.

"We'll let you know how it goes." George added. He shot Constance a knowing grin. "We're supposed to cover vampires this term."

Mihnea rolled his eyes, sensing what the boy was doing. "The syllabus says we're working on Hags first."

Fred waved a hand through the air like it didn't mean much to him either way. "Well, whatever lesson we're doing is going to start in ten minutes, so we need to get a move on if we want to be there for it."

Connie's eyes widened in shock. Ten minutes? The Geomancy classroom was on the fifth floor of the South Tower! The trek up there would take nearly that long, and then they would have to get all their books and supplies out... She sprang up from the table.

"Come on Neville!" she said, grabbing his arm to pull him away from his plate. "We've got to go or we'll be late!"

His eyes widened in realization as he checked the time himself and he sprang up to his feet, holding a piece of toast in his mouth as he gathered up his things.

"Catch up with you later!" Connie called back as they rushed out.

* * *

><p>Geomancy was taught by Professor Perun Apophyll. He was an older man with short, silver hair and a pointed goatee that was a couple of shades darker. He gave off a serious air, but his voice held a note of welcoming warmth in it. From the sparseness of the classroom, it appeared that this wasn't a very popular class. There were only three other students present aside from Neville and herself. Two Ravenclaw girls Connie wasn't familiar with, and a lone Slytherin boy. Her eyes narrowed when she recognized him. Blaise Zabini. Well, that was just what she needed. A Slytherin with a superiority complex. She and Neville chose seats next to each other at the front of the room – far, far away from him.<p>

"Well, this is better than I hoped." Professor Apophyll announced once the five of them were seated. "It's nice to see a couple of young men in the room. I usually have only girls in my classes." He shot a serious look toward the back of the room. "I hope you don't believe sitting back there will make me overlook you, Mr. Zabini. I'll leave it alone for now, but if this arrangement affects your participation in class, I will institute a seating chart."

Connie didn't bother turning around to see what the look on Blaise's face was, but his voice, while respectful, held a small note of dislike. "Yes, Professor."

She sincerely hoped that if the professor decided a seating chart was necessary, he wouldn't put that cad anywhere near her or Neville. From her experiences in other classes with Zabini, she knew he was on the quiet side. He normally didn't bother others all that much aside from glaring down his nose like he was the God of the universe and found it insulting that other human beings were sharing the same air as him. However, he seemed to make a special exception for Constance. Ever since their confrontation during Lockhart's 'dueling lesson' last year, Blaise made a point of openly expressing how much he despised her. Connie honestly didn't care how much he hated her guts. If he tried anything, she'd just kick him in the balls like last time.

The man at the front of the room nodded, then went back to calling roll. Connie finally learned the names of the two Ravenclaw girls. The blonde one was Clarence Greenlock and the girl with short black hair and glasses was Prudence Mitchell.

"Now then, I imagine with as large as most of the other classes here are you have little, if any, experience with the freedom provided by a small classroom." the professor said once he'd gotten through the short list of names. "I'm not one to bother with that 'raising hands for permission to speak' nonsense. Geomancy is a unique and singular art form. It can be used in a thousand different ways and what works for one may or may not work for another. I expect intelligent discussion and debate in my classroom, not just regurgitation of things you've read in a book. If any of you believe you'll have trouble with that, I suggest you leave now to prevent wasting everyone else's time."

One long, almost bony looking finger extended toward the door. Everyone seemed so entranced by his manner of speaking that no one moved a muscle.

"Good. Now, I also expect any and all conflicts between houses to be left at the door." he went on smoothly. "I have little patience for that meaningless drivel. You don't have to like each other, but you **will** respect each other. There are philosophical topics present within the realm of Geomancy that provoke strong opinions and we will discuss them all. I encourage open debate, but I don't tolerate arguments. If you find yourself in disagreement with anything you hear in my class, even if it comes from myself, feel free to voice your opinion. However, if you can't express yourself in a thoughtful, intelligent manner, you will be asked to leave. Do we all understand each other?"

The more he spoke, the more Constance found herself liking this man. Again, not a soul in the room moved. Apophyll then clapped his hands together in a businesslike manner and began the lesson in earnest. Since it was the first class of term, the professor spent the majority of his time presenting various stones and crystals to them to see how many they could identify without consulting their books. It was refreshing, participating in a lesson where the first instruction given was to leave the textbook closed – especially on the first day. After going through a short list of relatively basic stones that anyone would be able to recognize, Apophyll held up a bright, golden orange stone.

"Can any of you tell me what this is?" he questioned, peering around at the five of them. "Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville looked taken aback at hearing his name called, then studied the small object held between his fingers. "That's... amber?"

"Very good." the professor said with a nod. "And what can you tell me about it?"

The boy sitting next to Constance shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "It's... formed from tree resin..." he began haltingly. "and it... gives off electricity when it's rubbed with something..."

Apophyll lowered his hand slightly and frowned. "You don't seem very certain, Mr. Longbottom." he commented. "Are you** sure** about that?"

Neville immediately faltered, like he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Everything he'd said so far was true, he just labored under the fallacy that having a teacher question his statement meant he'd gotten something wrong. Connie gave him a gentle nudge in the ribs. The boy shook himself.

"Yes sir." he said in a slightly stronger voice. "I'm sure."

The professor looked at him for a long moment, then inclined his head. "You are correct. Ten points to Gryffindor." he paused to give him a sideways glance. "Speak with confidence, Mr. Longbottom! Cowering when questioned only makes you look foolish."

Though the comment could have been taken as a jab had the situation been different, Apophyll made it sound more like an instructive observation. It took a while, but Neville gradually warmed up and grew accustomed to the unfamiliar structure of the lesson. It was almost awe inspiring to watch the transformation he underwent. Neville Longbottom, the boy who was known for being thick in the head and slow to understanding, was actually jumping up and answering questions correctly. Hell, he even caught a small mistake made by Greenlock and corrected her on it. He corrected a **Ravenclaw**.

Once they got through an initial quiz of how many stones and their properties they could identify without consulting their books, the discussion turned to how concepts in Geomancy actually worked. Constance knew some of the basics from lessons she'd had at home. Rocks, stones, and crystals all gave off a particular power signature that could be used to bolster a witch or wizard's personal power, or to add strength to a particular spell or potion. Because all living things had an individual power signature, some stones and crystals worked better for some people and less for others. It was very similar to certain concepts found in muggle science. Apparently, the Ravenclaw girls picked up on that as well. Mitchell mentioned something about energy wavelengths and how they could be strengthened or canceled out by others. Connie personally couldn't recall ever participating in a class discussion where students talked about how things in magic were so similar to things found in the muggle world.

But there was one person who didn't like where the conversation was going, and he made sure everyone knew about it.

At the back of the room, Zabini let out a derisive snort. "A muggle could **never** understand anything as complicated as what you're talking about."

The comment made Constance bristle with indignation. What right did he have to say something like that?

"Muggles aren't as stupid as everyone makes them out to be." she said in a firm tone, turning around to face the boy. "There are very few things in magic that muggles can't do with their science, and there are plenty of things muggles have figured out how to do that magic isn't capable of. If you don't believe that, then I'd like to see a form of magical transportation that can move large numbers of people around the world as efficiently as an airplane can."

Mitchell and Greenlock exchanged a look between themselves. "She's right." Clarence said. "Did you know that muggles have actually figured out how to make things invisible?"

Prudence nodded. "My dad says that there are some scientists now who are working on teleportation devices. I don't think they've managed to move large objects around yet, but if they do muggles could apparate just as easily as a witch or wizard could!"

If those two girls knew about things like that, then they had to have at least one parent who was muggle. A pure blooded witch wouldn't have heard about those sorts of experiments. Hell, there were a lot of muggles who weren't aware of those particular advancements in science and physics.

Blaise looked outrageously offended by it all. It appeared that he thought muggles were on the same level as animals and any implication of them being more than that was blasphemous to his ears. However, he made a pointed display of keeping his mouth shut. If he attempted to say something, it would probably come out as a curse and get him thrown out of class. Their professor took notice of the growing tension in the room and immediately took steps to dissipate it.

"It it truly awe inspiring, the things muggles have managed to create with their sciences, but that's not why we're here." he announced. "Now that we've gotten the preliminaries out of the way, I want you to read chapter one of your textbook and write a three foot scroll on the properties and uses of amber. Original thoughts, ladies and gentlemen! I have seen every possible way the phrases used in your books can be re-written, so don't even try it."

Had the entire class gone by so quickly? It honestly didn't feel like they had been in there for an hour. Since they hadn't been allowed to use their books, there was no packing up to be done. After being excused, they all picked up their bags and headed for the door. Once out in the hallway, Connie felt a small tug on her robe. She paused and turned her head to find Neville there.

"Would you... work with me on this?" he asked, looking a bit nervous. "The scroll, I mean."

Constance blinked at him. "Of course!" she replied. "We're the only Gryffindors in there and I'm going to need a study buddy."

Neville let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks." he said. "It sounds like it's going to be interesting in there, but I don't want to screw up on the first go..."

There was that nervous, uncertain side of him coming out again. Constance gave him a reassuring look. "I think you're going to do great, Neville." she told him. "You answered questions right and got loads of points for us! On the first day!"

The boy paused as if just realizing that. "I... I did**,** didn't I?" he asked, sounding like he didn't quite believe it.

"You sure did." she said. "It was** impressive**." she locked her arm into his and pulled him down the hallway toward their next class. "You know, I think if we work hard enough, you could get the highest grade in there."

"There's no way!" he exclaimed, shocked. "Connie, I'm stupid**. **Ravenclaws are the smartest ones at Hogwarts and even if there weren't any in Geomancy, you'll still do better than me."

Constance made a face at him and slapped his shoulder. "Come off it, Neville. You are** not **stupid. You just need to learn how to be more confident, is all. Don't worry about the Ravenclaws. I'll work with you on assignments, help you study, then at the end of the year, we'll share the highest grade. How about that?"

Neville still looked unsure. "Connie..."

"Oh, come on." she prodded. "Just say it to make me happy. Please?"

Constance gave her best attempt at George's puppy dog eyes, and Neville slumped in defeat. "Fine." he said. "I'll share the highest grade with you."

"That's the spirit!" she said, beaming at him.

He might only be saying it to get her off his back, but the girl had a feeling that he would do a lot better in the class than he thought he would.

* * *

><p>A.N. You get cyber brownie points if you can tell what the Geomancy Professor's name means. :)<p>

Reviews!


	40. Signs and Omens

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Everything was going smashingly well considering how badly things had begun. All of Connie's new classes were incredibly interesting and lively. Arithmancy was proving to be challenging, with it being all about the magical properties of numbers. But Professor Vector did an excellent job of explaining things, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The only thing Connie didn't like were all the damn charts. Everything was so complex and interconnected that homework assignments could only be done by consulting long, intricate looking charts full of numbers and formulas. Vector made it clear on the first day of class that they would have a much easier time of things if they just memorized them. But there were so damn many it would take forever and the girl had enough homework on her plate as it was. Maybe once things calmed down and weren't as hectic, she'd make an attempt. So far, Ancient Runes was focused on teaching them the characters and meanings of the Runic alphabets. They wouldn't be working on translations for another month or so, but once they did, Connie imagined that it would become much more involved. Just learning the basics of a new language was fun on it's own. The possibilities for its use were endless.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the other class she'd been concerned about. She wasn't quite sure if it was the subject matter or the teachers she'd had in the past, but DADA had never really felt like her 'thing'. Though she never pointed it out in class, half of the information covered was either incomplete, or entirely wrong. The other half was the stuff she already knew. That particular combination made for boring lessons and class time spent staring at the clock on the wall waiting for the bell to ring. Remus Lupin changed all of that. He was the sort of person who could make his lessons fly by, leaving her wondering how she had spent so much time in his room without noticing. The man was direct and open enough to make one feel completely at ease in his presence, yet serious enough to keep his students under control. He also had the ability to pack the maximum amount of information into the smallest amount of words while still keeping it easy for everyone to understand. Lectures, when they were given, were relatively brief. They spent much more time on practical application of the things they learned. Lupin would bring in specimens of the various dark creatures they discussed and would let them have a go at defending themselves against them.

But not everyone was having as good of a time in classes as she was, and Connie grew more and more thankful with each passing day that she'd chosen the schedule she did. The boys made it sound like Care of Magical Creatures was a fun class with Hagrid at the helm. However, his choice of creatures to cover in his lessons were causing a few problems. Their first class had been dedicated to hippogriffs. Harry actually got to go for a ride on one named Buckbeak – who was apparently one of Hagrid's many 'pets'. But once the ride was over and they were back on the ground, Draco declared that everything they'd been taught must have been a bold faced lie if Harry was able to handle one. He marched right up to the beast, ignoring all the rules for how to approach a hippogriff correctly and got himself hurt. It served the boy right, Constance thought. Acting like a damn fool and probably scaring Buckbeak half to death. He'd wound up with only a few scratches, but Malfoy went on and on about it like he'd almost died. He'd immediately reported the incident to his father who went on to get the ministry involved. It sounded like there was going to be some sort of hearing to determine how dangerous Buckbeak was and if he should be put down. During study hall, they all could hear Pansy Parkinson asking Draco about his injury.

"Does it hurt badly?" she questioned in a worried sounding voice.

"It comes and goes." the Slytherin boy reported. He showed off his arm like it was a war wound. "If it hadn't been for Madam Pomfrey, I would have lost my arm in another minute or two."

Good lord, he'd only gotten a few scratches! Madam Pomfrey had even forced him to leave the hospital wing after only being in there for 30 minutes. Ron huffed and jerked a thumb toward their table.

"Really laying on thick, isn't he?" he asked. "It might have done everyone a favor if he **had **lost a bleeding arm."

It looked like Harry was doing his best to ignore Draco. He pulled Ron back around and pointed down at his book. "Just ignore him. We've got to have this done by tomorrow." he said, then frowned. "Three palm readings each... how is she supposed to know we did it right if we only turn in the readings?"

Next to him, Hermione sniffed. "She'll probably 'divine' whether we did it correctly or not." she said with disdain. "Honestly, the woman is a complete nightmare."

Connie was working on a Potions assignment with Fred and George close by, and all of them immediately stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Hermione Granger** never** talked that way about a teacher. Even if she didn't like them, she still showed respect for their position. One of Constance's brows went up.

"Who's a nightmare?" she asked.

"Professor **Trelawney**." Hermione replied. "I knew that Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic, but I thought with a good enough teacher it might be interesting. But... good lord, the woman is** awful**. By the end of our first class, she had Neville believing his grandmother was dying of some horrible illness and was seeing death omens in Harry's tea leaves." she paused to turn her attention onto Ron. "And just what had her thinking you were 'in the great beyond' anyway?"

Her tone sounded accusing and the ginger headed boy gave a start. "Bloody hell, Hermione, I don't know! You think I wanted her to come over?"

Trelawney thought Ron was where? Connie wondered. This was too confusing for words. "What the devil are you on about?"

"Trelawney came over to our table because she said she sensed Ron was in the 'Great Beyond', or some other such rubbish." Hermione reported. "Isn't that what she said Harry?"

The boy nodded. "That, and something about his aura pulsing..."

Next to Connie, the twins exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. "Trelawney has your 'aura' pulsing, does she little brother?" George teased.

Fred grinned mischievously. "Maybe she thought you wanted to get into her 'great beyond'!"

All the blood drained out of Ron's face in horror and Hermione's mouth fell open. Harry's lips twitched like he found it funny, but didn't want to show it while Ron was close enough to see it. Constance really wanted to give them both a lecture about saying such a perverted thing, but found she couldn't. She was too busy attempting not to laugh herself.

"**Thank you**, Fred and George." Ron said, the color in his face shifting from a ghostly white to pale green. "I think I'm going to have nightmares now."

"You're welcome!" they replied with exuberance.

Ron gave them another glare before turning back to Harry. "You don't think that 'grim' thing could be about Sirius Black, do you?" he asked.

Connie's brows furrowed. "Grim?"

"It's the omen Trelawney saw in Harry's teacup." Hermione said with a frown. "It's some kind of spectral dog that foretells death. With the way that woman is about gloom and doom, I honestly don't think it means anything at all..."

"He's been sighted!"

Everyone at the table looked up to find Seamus running in waving a newspaper around like a madman. He skidded to a halt near where they all were sitting.

"Sirius Black's been sighted!" he said again in excited, nervous tones. "And it's not far from here!"

Neville, Dean, Ginny, and several other Griffindors got up from their seats to get a better look at the newspaper. Hermione grabbed the edge of it to pull it closer to read.

"Dovetown?" she questioned. "That's only a few miles away!"

"You don't think he's trying to get to Hogwarts, do you?" Dean asked.

If everything Connie knew was correct, then the man was indeed trying to get to Hogwarts. If he was only a few miles away, then it wouldn't take long for him to get there either. Maybe a week or two if he weren't forced to lay low for a while to avoid being spotted again. Neville looked around at everyone anxiously.

"But... there's no way he could get in." he said, as if trying to convince himself. "Not with dementors at every entrance..."

Seamus tossed the paper down on the table and pointed at it. "He's already gotten past them once, hasn't he? Who's to say he won't do it again?"

_Excellent point. _Constance thought to herself. But if Black attempted to get into the castle, he'd have to fight his way past numerous protective charms on top of the dementors. Surely that would set off an alarm somewhere and he'd be caught before he got inside... She looked over and saw that Harry looked disturbed. It was only natural for him to feel that way after what they'd just learned.

"Even if he gets past the dementors, we still have Dumbledore and all the teachers here." she said, looking at him specifically.

Harry shook his head like he were trying to clear away a mass of thoughts and worries rushing through it. "Yeah." he said. "I suppose."

He didn't sound terribly reassured by that, but it was all they had at the moment.

* * *

><p>With the way everyone was going on about the sighting, homework was pretty much dropped and forgotten. It wasn't until they got back up to the common room for the night that Harry and Ron realized they still had palm readings to get done. Their teacher had forbidden them to read their own palms – apparently because it was impossible to do correctly – so they wound up doing each others. But of course, with each of them needing three palm readings, Connie wound up providing the third hand. Technically, Hermione asked to see her hand first, but the boys crowded around to get their readings done as well.<p>

"Wow, Connie." Ron commented as he looked up from the book Harry had open in front of them. "Those lines under your little finger mean you're going to get married twice."

Constance gaped at him. "**Excuse **me?" she exclaimed. Married twice? There's no way in hell that was right. She fully intended that if she ever got married, it would be once and that was it.

Hermione shot a look at him, then turned back to her. "I wouldn't put much stock in that if I were you." she said. "They're just lines, after all. My palm reading said I wouldn't get married, but I'd still have children. How silly is that?"

While the girl had her head down looking at the lines in her palm more closely, Connie noticed Ron glance at Harry. It seemed that he wasn't too sure about that not coming to pass in the future. She pointedly cleared her throat to draw the boys' attention and gave them a warning look. If either of them said a word out loud about it, Granger would throw a fit and she'd wind up having to beat one of them senseless for insulting her. Hermione herself noticed the sound and looked up.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Constance shook her head. "Oh, nothing." she said quickly, then glanced down. "So, is there anything else?"

"Well, let's see... Your heart line goes through a circle here." she reported, pointing to the area she was talking about. "That means temporary separation from someone you love. Your head and life lines are connected here at the ends. That means close ties to family. And..." she paused thoughtfully. "That's interesting..."

Connie immediately sat forward. If Hermione thought something was interesting, then it was probably unusual. "What is it?"

"You have a line of fate and destiny." she replied.

"Is... that a bad thing?" the girl questioned carefully.

Hermione shook her head. "Of course not. It's just that not many people have one." she looked almost sheepish for a moment. "I actually haven't read this far in the book yet..."

Ron gaped at her like she'd just admitted to killing someone. "You haven't read that far yet?" he repeated in shock. "You devour books like your life depends on it! How could you not have read that far?"

Hermione brushed her hair back over her shoulders and shrugged, though she looked a bit upset at him pointing it out. "I have **a lot** of textbooks this year, Ronald." she stated, giving him a look. "Between Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies..."

"You're in Muggle Studies too?" Harry asked, his eyes widening. "How many classes are you taking, Hermione?"

"A few." she replied, not offering anything more than that.

Ron just kept staring at her. "What do you need Muggle Studies for anyway? You live with muggles, so you already know everything about them!"

"I wanted to learn about them from the wizarding point of view." she told him, then gestured back to Connie's hand in her lap. "Now, if you don't mind, can we please get back to this?" she waited until both of the boys had shut their mouths to clear her throat. "As I was saying before you interrupted me, I haven't read this far in the book yet so I'm not sure what the presence of a destiny line means. Harry, you have your book open."

Harry blinked, then looked down at his Divination textbook and began flipping through the pages.

"Destiny lines, destiny lines... here it is!" he said. The boy leaned over to get a good look at Constance's hand, then studied the page he'd turned to. "Okay, it starts at the Mound of Venus, so that means... family is important in career. I guess that means you'll be taking up the family business or something. And... wait a minute..." he frowned. The boy took hold of her hand and laid it on top of his book so he could look back and forth between them more easily. "This fork in the line here means that there's going to be some sort of... catastrophic event. The chain in the line after that means a large secret is revealed."

"Huh." Ron said, looking at her hand, then up to her face. "Have you got some sort of big secret you need to tell us about then Connie?"

It sounded like he was making a joke, but Constance was rattled. The things they were saying they saw in the lines of her palm... they were hitting much too close to home for her comfort. She shook her head to clear it.

"Well, if what Harry is saying is right, then if I **do** have a big secret, I can't say anything about it until after this 'catastrophic event' happens, can I?" she replied, trying to make a joke of it as well.

Ron smiled and elbowed Harry in the ribs. "I guess not. I mean, you can't go against a prediction, can you?"

Harry brightened up a bit himself. "At least I'm not the only one getting dark omens."

"Oh, Neville too!" the ginger headed boy reminded him. "You can't forget about Neville."

Hermione's lips pressed together to form a thin line. "I'm telling you, it's all just a bunch of rubbish." she declared. "Secrets revealed and catastrophes happening... Honestly, if that's all Divination can come up with, then it's no wonder foolish people believe in it. If you predict something bad is going to happen without saying when, you'll always be right. Every person on this earth has something they would consider bad or catastrophic happen to them eventually."

Maybe so, Constance thought, but that didn't brush off the weird feeling she had. If Divination was all a game of probability, then it was possible such a reading could have come up by chance. But the idea of that particular prediction being made from lines in **her** palm was... unsettling. She decided right then and there that she probably shouldn't help them with Divination homework any more. She didn't want to think about any other predictions or readings they might come up with for her.

* * *

><p>A.N: One of the things I never understood about the Harry Potter books was Hermione's huge dislike of Divination. Technically speaking, anything ending in the suffix 'mancy' is a form of divination - which means that Arithmancy <strong>should<strong> be divination using numbers. And Hermione just **loves** Arithmancy.

However, I will admit that the suffixes 'mancy' and 'ology' seem to get interchanged a lot in the realm of magical subjects, so they've come to carry a similar meaning. (Numerology, for example, should mean the study of numbers, but it's actually a form of divination, and Necromancy orginally meant raising the dead to learn the future, but is now (generally) used to refer to raising the dead for any purpose.) Besides, Arithmancy sounds so much cooler than Numerology.

So... I guess with that in mind, Arithmancy would be the magical equivalent of math (ick), and Geomancy would be the magical equivalent of Geology.

I have no idea why I wrote all of that. I guess I wanted something to complain about. O_o

Reviews are beautiful things!


	41. Identified

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The news about Black spread through the school like wildfire. Mihnea hadn't been in study hall when Seamus made the announcement of his discovery, but it didn't take long for him to hear all about it. But, of course, a mass murderer being sighted about thirty miles away from the school didn't prevent business going on as usual. Classes were still held and homework was still given out. And Mihnea had his stocking duties down in Snape's storerooms to take care of.

Snape was a hard nut to crack when trying to discern what he was thinking. He hardly ever showed emotion except for extremely small snatches that were difficult to spot. However, the boy had been around his head of house long enough to identify when he was disturbed by something. Perhaps 'disturbed' wasn't the right word. It was too strong and implied fearfulness. No, rather, Snape was... **upset** about something. Irritated, even. So Mihnea wasn't terribly surprised to learn during one of his restocking sessions that Dumbledore was coming down to the Potion's Master's office to have a talk with him. It had to have something to do with the news of Black being spotted. He half thought he'd get the chance to listen in and see what it was about.

Unfortunately, Snape shot that idea down almost as quickly as it came to him.

"I won't be needing you for stocking this afternoon." the man told him. "However, there is a small bit of business I can't be bothered with at the moment." he picked up a large vial filled with a murky green potion. "Deliver this to Professor Lupin for me."

Mihnea studied the bottle and slowly quirked a brow. It was stoppered, so he couldn't smell the contents, but it looked suspiciously like a wolfsbane potion. He had strongly suspected Lupin was a werewolf from the moment he stepped foot into his first class, but didn't have any solid proof of it. That bottle pretty much confirmed it.

"Sir, is that...?" he began, only to have Snape cut him off.

"I am **required** to say that it's medicine and nothing more." the man told him meaningfully. He extended the vial. "Deliver it, Mr. Bassarab."

That sounded like a not so subtle way of telling him that the potion was precisely what he thought it was. Mihnea took the glass bottle and inclined his head. "Yes, professor."

As he made his way of out of the dungeons and up into the main part of the castle, Mihnea wondered if perhaps he had indulged in listening in on Professor Snape's conversations a bit too often. It was starting to seem that the man knew him well enough to understand that he didn't need to be around if he wanted to have an entirely private conversation. The boy could have Pixie hang out near Snape's office more often to listen in for him, but that would quickly draw attention. It would be strange to others for his cat to be lurking around in a particular place all the time. He was going to have to talk to the twins about getting a set of those 'extendable ears' they'd come up with. They would probably make him pay for them, but it would be a worthwhile investment. Having his head of house block all his spying attempts was starting to get annoying.

* * *

><p>The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had one of the most interesting setups of all the rooms in the castle. Rather than the professor's office being situated a few doors down the hall, it was actually located inside the classroom itself. One simply had to walk up a short, rounded staircase at the end of the room to reach it. When Mihnea knocked on the door, he immediately noticed he couldn't hear any sound coming from within. That was a bit strange. Even if a teacher was doing nothing more than sitting quietly at their desk, he could usually make out some sort of noise. The rustling of papers being flipped through or the scrape of a drawer being opened. But here, there was nothing but absolute silence. He half thought that no one was there until the door was pulled open from the inside.<p>

"Mr. Bassarab?" Lupin questioned upon seeing the boy standing there. His face brightened and he stepped back out of the way. "I apologize if I kept you waiting. I've been working on grading a few papers. Come in, come in."

One of the many reasons Mihnea suspected this man might be a werewolf (on top of having a scent that definitely wasn't human) was his unusual behavior patterns. He was always thoughtful, open, and friendly to students, but the boy also noticed that with the approach of the full moon, he was growing more and more animated. Not hyper exactly, but you could tell that he was filled with more energy than he usually was. His face had more color to it and the faint traces of gray in his hair were almost unnoticeable. Mihnea imagined that after he went through his transformation, everything would change and the professor would look like he'd been run over by a bus. At least until he had adequate time to recover.

Lupin waited until he walked inside of the room to clasp his hands in front of him. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Mihnea held up the bottle of potion. "Professor Snape sent me to give this to you."

The man looked at the bottle and quirked a brow. "Did he, now? How interesting. Well, this is very fortunate because I've been meaning to have a conversation with you, but you're difficult to track down outside of class."

The boy immediately went very still. Lupin wanted to have a conversation with him? He wondered if he should be nervous. The first thought that popped into his head was that if he could sense that Lupin was a werewolf, then he might be able to do the exact same thing with him. He wasn't really sure how he felt about that. Professor Lupin was a likeable sort of person, and Mihnea thought his classes were the best he'd ever had. But he'd been keeping everything under wraps for so long, the idea of it coming out was still... unnerving.

His expression must have become guarded, because Lupin gave him a reassuring look. "There's no need to be nervous." he told him sincerely. "You're not in trouble. Just a friendly conversation and nothing more."

Mihnea studied him carefully. "About what, sir?"

"Well, lets just say that people like me develop a habit of being observant." he said. "You strike me as a very interesting sort of person, Mihnea. Do you mind if I call you Mihnea?"

"Um... no sir." the boy said, remaining watchful.

Lupin gave him another reassuring look and motioned toward the door that was still open behind him. "Push that closed, if you would. There are muffling wards on this room to prevent any sound from getting out."

That must have been why he couldn't hear anything before, Mihnea thought to himself. He closed the door, then turned back around to face his professor.

"Now then," the man said. "I assure you that you have my full confidence, and anything that is said in this room will **stay** in this room. Can I expect the same from you in return?"

Yep, Lupin** definitely** sensed something. Jesus this was awkward. But really, if anyone were going to find out, it was probably best for it to be someone like him. Slowly, not feeling comfortable with the decision but making it all the same, Mihnea inclined his head.

"Yes sir." he said.

The professor smiled brightly. "Good lad." he said, then waved his arm. "Come sit down."

Rather than having him sit down across from his desk like most of the other teachers would have, Lupin took a more informal approach. He pulled himself up by his arms to sit on top of his desk, while Mihnea chose a chair in front of him. The whole thing was a ploy to calm his nerves, he imagined. People tended to be more comfortable in casual settings. The man studied him silently for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"I imagine you're wondering what all of this is about." he commented.

Mihnea hesitated for the briefest of moments, then blew out a long stream of air. "Actually, sir, I think I know exactly what this is about."

"Ah." he said with a kind smile. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised." he leaned back a bit, balancing himself on his arms. "You know, when you set foot into my classroom that first day, I knew you were different from your classmates. You're doing remarkably well in my class and I've noticed you have a particular and... **unique**, let's say, mindset when it comes to Defense Against the Dark Arts. A perception of dark creatures which is very unusual to find in someone your age." he paused and inclined his head slightly to look down his nose at him. "I also couldn't help but notice that you seemed to be a bit uncomfortable during our lesson on vampires last week."

_Damn it. _He thought to himself. Mihnea thought he'd been doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact that they were talking about something he didn't really want to be in the middle of. He'd actually participated and made comments during the lecture (even if most of the information presented wasn't right). But of course, no lesson on vampires could go without mentioning the great and infamous Count Dracula. The moment his father's name came up in the discussion, he had shut his mouth to prevent saying something he had no business saying in front of his classmates. He should have known that someone as observant as Lupin would have been paying attention...

When the boy made no move to say anything in response, Lupin pushed himself upright again. "How long have you been this way, Mihnea?" he asked in a gentle tone.

"How long have you been a werewolf?" Mihnea countered.

Lupin shook his head with a small laugh. "I knew you of all people would have figured it out." he said, then made a small hand gesture. "I was bitten by a werewolf when I was a young boy. Just before my eighth birthday, to be exact."

_Oh wow._ Mihnea had heard of werewolf attacks on young children before, but they didn't usually leave them alive. Most people who were infected with lycanthropy were bitten as adults or teenagers. Surviving something that vicious at such a young age was... impressive. His already positive perception of this man just went up several notches.

"I'm sorry." he said, truly meaning it.

Lupin lifted his shoulders in the smallest of shrugs. "There's nothing to be sorry for. It was a long time ago." he then took on a more prodding tone. "Now tell me about yourself, Mihnea. When did you become a vampire?"

This was the part that was hardest to explain. Mihnea sure as hell wasn't going to tell him everything no matter how much he trusted him. But there were some things he just couldn't get around.

"I'm not a full vampire." he told him. "Only half. I was... born this way." _Sort of,_ he added mentally.

One of the professor's eyebrows went up. "Half? That does explain why you don't seem to be affected by sunlight..." he paused thoughtfully. "This is extremely rare. I've only heard of one other like you.. I take it your mother was turned while she was carrying you?"

He just had to ask that, didn't he? Mihnea fought back the urge to sigh.

"No, sir. My mother is human." he said. "My father is a vampire."

At that, Lupin looked completely taken aback. The boy wasn't the least bit surprised to see it either. There were very specific circumstances known in the magical world where a half vampire could be 'conceived'. Mihnea himself didn't fit into any of them so he was, very literally, an anomaly.

"That's... not possible." Professor Lupin said, shaking his head at the thought. "Vampires are rendered sterile by their transformation..."

Mihnea sniffed. "My parents have been known to do a lot of things that shouldn't be possible."

"So I see." he said, seeming to assume he was referring to himself and nothing else. He gestured for the potion the boy still held in his hands and used his wand to conjure up a mug to pour the green fluid into. "You should consider yourself lucky you don't have to subject yourself to this." he said, holding up the mug. "It tastes terrible."

The boy wrinkled his nose. If it tasted anything like it smelled, it was probably worse than drinking sewage.

"I can imagine." he said.

Lupin chuckled good naturedly, but made a face as he sniffed the potion. He quickly gulped it down to get it down his throat before he could gag. The moment all of it was gone, a shiver ran through him.

"**Awful **stuff." he said again, then set the original bottle down on the desk beside him. "Does Professor Snape know about you?"

Mihnea shook his head. "No, sir. Only Dumbledore knows." he paused. "I... would prefer to keep it that way."

"You haven't told any of your friends?" the man prodded.

_Friends?_ Mihnea wondered. He coughed. "I... don't have any friends here, sir."

Again, one of Lupin's brows went up. "Are you sure of that? You seem to be on good terms with the Weasley twins."

The boy had to stop and think about that one. Were they his friends? He'd never been on** bad **terms with Fred and George. They had pretty much just left each other alone. But after that conversation he'd had with George over the summer, they all were making more of an effort to talk and be nice to each other. But would you call something like that 'friendship'? Mihnea wasn't really sure.

"George is dating my cousin." he settled on saying. "We sort of... agreed to be nice to each other."

The man's eyes lit up in understanding. "Ah, so you've worked out a gentleman's agreement." he commented, sounding amused. "I see. Your cousin is... Miss Stryker? How do you get on with her group of friends?"

"Well enough, I suppose." Mihnea thought back to when he had to help Granger, Potter, and Weasley out of the mess they'd made the year before. "I don't really do that much with them. They're just... there."

There was a short moment where Lupin just sat back and studied him. Trying to discern what it was he wanted to say. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I understand any reluctance you may have to making friends." he told him. "It's... **frightening**, to think of forming ties with someone when you hold such a big secret. I remember when I was in school, I was scared to death of anyone finding out about me. I always thought that if anyone knew, they would run away and I'd be left alone."

Mihnea found himself entranced by the man's words. That was precisely how he felt. It was strange to hear his own thoughts and feelings coming out of someone else's mouth. He leaned forward slightly.

"How did you deal with it?" he asked.

"Well, I only had a small group of friends, you see." he replied. "I did my best to make excuses, but during my third year, they started to notice that I was always conveniently missing during the days when there was a full moon. We all were members of Gryffindor house, and... well, I suppose with your cousin being sorted there, you'd know all about the Gryffindor penchant for figuring out about things they want to know."

Oh, yes. Mihnea definitely knew all about that. He inclined his head silently and Lupin nodded in return.

"They cornered me one day to question me about it and I had no choice but to admit being a werewolf." the man went on with a nostalgic look on his face. "I believe I've never been more nervous than I was then. But they accepted it and me, and our friendship grew stronger because of it." he crossed his ankles and clasped his hands in his lap. "It's hard, being different. I won't lie to you about that. But... there** are **people out there with good souls. You don't have to be completely alone." Lupin made a sweeping hand gesture. "If anything, I always have an open door. Our circumstances may be different, but I have a set of ears well trained for listening. As I said before, anything said here, stays here. Believe you me, I do know what that's like."

He honestly wasn't quite sure what to think. This man... was offering a hell of a lot. There were several things...** a lot** of things actually, that he would have liked to be able to talk to someone about but couldn't because of his unique situation. Connie was the only go-to person he really had. While he trusted her immensely and would tell her anything, she was still human. And a girl. She could listen all day long, but there were still things that were beyond her understanding. It would be nice, Mihnea decided. To have a confidant at school.

"...Thank you, professor." he said slowly.

Lupin smiled again and jumped off his desk. "Think nothing of it." he told him. "Trust me in this, Mihnea. I've been around and seen a lot of things. It's been my experience that it's better for people in our situation to stick together." he paused half a moment and gave him an almost playful look. "I imagine having the stigma of being a Slytherin attached to you doesn't help matters much."

He'd been wondering when that little tidbit was going to rear it's head. Mihnea sighed and shook his head. "No, it really doesn't."

That inspired a good natured chuckle as the man patted his shoulder to signal him to rise from his chair. Mihnea had just pushed himself up and was turning to leave when a knock sounded at the door. Lupin frowned and stepped past him to see who it could be.

"Just a moment." he told him, then pulled open the door to look outside. "Ah! Miss Lovegood, is it?"

Interested, Mihnea peered around the professor's shoulder and saw a short, tiny looking girl with long, dirty blonde hair and silver eyes. She smiled up at Lupin with a strange, dreamy looking expression.

"Yes sir." she replied. "I'm sorry to bother you, but Professor Flitwick sent me to tell you he found a boggart in his office. He's locked it up in a trunk and he thought you might want it."

He couldn't see Lupin's face, but it was clear from the way his voice changed that he was indeed interested. "Flitwick caught himself a boggart?" he questioned. "What wonderful news! I've been meaning to acquire one for my third years, but I haven't been able to track one down yet. I'll head down there right away." he paused and looked back. "Is there anything else you needed, Mihnea?"

The boy shook his head. He couldn't think of any reason to keep him away from something he obviously needed for one of his classes. Lupin nodded and pointed to the empty potion bottle sitting on his desk.

"If you would, please return that to Professor Snape for me." he requested. "He's been known to be insanely protective of his glassware. And do pull the door shut on your way out."

He inclined his head to show he understood and went to retrieve the bottle. When Mihnea turned back around, Professor Lupin was already downstairs and halfway out of the classroom, leaving him alone with that strange girl. She was still wearing that faraway, dreamy look on her face. The oddness she gave off was enhanced by the fact she had her wand stuck behind her left ear like a pencil and had a necklace of butterbeer corks painted with different designs hanging around her neck. The mass of her hair hung in the way, but he was pretty sure those objects dangling from her earrings were radishes. What an interesting fashion statement. She cocked her head slightly to the side, studying the space around his head rather than looking directly at him.

"Hello." she said, her eyes moving from his face to his tie. "You're a Slytherin."

Mihnea blinked at her. She didn't look intimidated or afraid... just pointing out a fact. It was weird. He glanced down at the colors present on her own uniform.

"You're a Ravenclaw."

The girl smiled and nodded. "I am." she said, then stuck out her hand. "I'm Luna Lovegood."

So she was still going to talk to him even knowing he was a member of the house everyone hated? That was interesting to say the least. She was so tiny in stature and looked so young, she had to be a first or second year at most. He slowly reached out and took her hand.

"Mihnea Bassarab." he said, introducing himself.

"I know." she replied, like she'd been expecting it. "I've heard about you. Everyone makes you sound scary, but you don't seem that scary to me." she leaned forward a bit and studied his face. "You have very pretty eyes."

Again, Mihnea just blinked. There were a handful of Slytherin girls who had some sort of weird crush on him. The few who had enough of a backbone to actually talk to him had given him similar compliments. But Luna didn't sound like a girl with a crush. In fact, her tone was exactly the same as when she pointed out he was a Slytherin. It sounded like she was just making an observation. Or thinking out loud or something. How on earth was one supposed to react to that?

"Um... thank you." he said, then noticed her feet. She was wearing no shoes, but did have two different colored socks on – one red and one blue. They weren't normal looking socks either. These were the kind that were made to look like knitted gloves for the feet. "You have nice socks."

Her whole face lit up as if he'd given her the most wonderful compliment in the world. "Thank you!" she said with a wide smile. "I made them myself."

She made her own socks? That was actually impressive, given how intricate making 'fingers' for each of the toes had to be. Mihnea shook his head and went back to studying her. "Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

Luna shrugged. "My belongings have a habit of disappearing." she replied. "I suspect nargles are behind it. That's why I wear this necklace. It's a charm to protect against them, see?"

She held out her necklace of assorted corks for his appraisal. Mihnea had personally never heard of 'nargles' but suspected that if they existed, they had nothing to do with her belongings going missing. It sounded more like people were stealing them and hiding them from her. As he was thinking up an appropriate response, Luna's eyes began wondering around the room like she had suddenly grown bored.

"It's nice outside today. I think I'll go play with the thestrals." she said, then gave him a small wave. "It was nice to meet you, Mihnea Bassarab."

With that, she turned on her heel and skipped down the staircase as if she hadn't a care in the world. Mihnea just watched her go, feeling completely flabbergasted. It took a few moments, but the weight of what she said finally hit him. There was only an extremely small group of students at Hogwarts who could see the thestrals. Those that could never talked about them because of their dark reputation. But that tiny, weird girl was going to go off and **play** with them. Like she didn't care about what other people thought of them. That was... amazing.

Mihnea quickly pulled the door of Professor Lupin's office closed and rushed down the stairs after her.

"Hey!" he called out. "Wait up!"

* * *

><p>A.N: I love how when a girl tells Mihnea that he has pretty eyes, he comes back with "you have nice socks." XD<p> 


	42. The Black Dog

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Several of the third year Gryffindors were crowded around the notice board in the common room. McGonagall had recently put up an announcement about the first visit to Hogsmeade village. It just happened to fall on Halloween and everyone was excited about it. They would get to spend the day exploring the village, then be able to come back to enjoy the feast that would be prepared for them.

But not everyone was particularly happy.

"Where is he, Hermione?" Ron demanded angrily.

Hermione looked away from the noticeboard. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your damn cat!" he said, stomping over to them in a fury. "I swear, I'm going to turn the bloody beast into a tea cozy!"

"Excuse me?" She exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "You are not! What has Crookshanks ever done to you?"

"He's killed Scabbers, that's what!"

Connie knew for a fact that Hermione's cat had been curled up asleep on her bed when they left their dormitory that morning. She sincerely hoped he was still up there, because the boy looked about ready to hurt something. Harry looked back and forth between them, and she noticed Neville glance over, wondering what was going on. Connie quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back out of the way when Hermione whirled around on her heel to face Ron down. This looked like it was going to get ugly.

"You can't know that for sure." she countered.

Ron pointed an accusing finger at her. "That thing is a vicious monster, Hermione!" he turned toward Harry and Connie as if looking for support. "You've seen the way he's always lurking about! Scabbers is gone, and that bleeding, pig-faced hairball murdered him!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Say it again, Ronald!" she warned, her voice raising in anger.

"Oh, you didn't hear me the first time? I said your **bleeding, pig-faced hairball** has murdered my Scabbers in cold blood!"

The girl's mouth dropped open in shock, then she moved to draw her wand. Constance and Harry took one look at each other then jumped between them, Harry pushing Ron back while Connie kept Hermione from hexing his balls off or something.

"Hermione, breathe." she said, trying to get her to focus on her. "Let it go He's just being stupid."

Harry seemed to be attempting the same thing with Ron, but it wasn't working very well.

"This isn't worth it." he told him. "Calm down."

"I will not calm down!" Ron shouted, then struggled to get out of Harry's grip. "Let me go! That cat is going to get what's coming to it!"

"If you didn't see him do it, you can't prove anything, Ron!" Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Maybe **you** should take better care of your pets! How many times has your rat gone missing now? Three times?"

"**Four.**" Ron corrected, glaring at her. "And he only runs off to escape from **your** cat! He chases him around every time he sees him!"

"He's a cat! It's in his nature! If you didn't let the bloody thing run loose all the time, he wouldn't chase him!"

"Scabbers has as much of a right to be loose as that beast does!"

"Except he always makes a right pest of himself, doesn't he?" the girl shot back. "He chews holes in everything, roots around in people's beds at night, and slinks around in underwear drawers! Do you have any idea how** nasty** it is to find a rat burrowed in your dresser clawing through your knickers!"

"Scabbers does not do that!"

Oh, yes he did. The damn thing had caused more near heart attacks amongst the female members of their house than anyone could count. Feeling a large rodent crawling around under your sheets at night wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up. Connie herself had gotten a nasty shock once when she awoke to him trying to crawl up the inside of her pajamas' pant leg. She might have killed him herself if she hadn't recognized the distinctive tufts of fur on his ears. This arguing had gone on enough, and it needed to stop.

"Guys, is this really worth fighting over?" Harry asked, finally deciding it was safe enough to let go of Ron. "He's probably just run off again. He'll come back like he always does."

Ron looked at him and shook his head like he didn't believe it. "He's dead, Harry. I just know it. I've looked everywhere and the peanut butter I leave out hasn't been touched..." he paused, suddenly looking distraught. "Scabbers always comes back for peanut butter!"

"But where's the body?" Connie asked. "Cats are show offs, Ron. You've seen how Crookshanks always brings the spiders and mice he kills back to Hermione so she can see them. If he killed Scabbers, he would have brought the body to her before he ate it." she glanced over her shoulder at Hermione. "You haven't seen him with Scabbers, have you?"

The girl crossed her arms over her chest, still upset at the accusation. "No, and if I** had**, I would have told you." she said directly to Ron. "Crookshanks isn't stupid. He might chase him around, but he knows Scabbers belongs to you. I honestly don't believe he would kill him."

It took time, but Ron slowly started to deflate. "Fine." he said. "But he's gone somewhere."

"Maybe he's out at Hagrid's garden?" Harry suggested. "He says there's loads of wild rats down there that like to chew up the vegetables. Maybe... maybe Scabbers ran off to find himself a nice girl rat."

The ginger headed boy blinked at him. "A girl rat? Scabbers?"

"Yeah." Harry said, running with it. "He doesn't get to see other rats that much, does he? He could have found a nice, pretty girl rat. And maybe he keeps running off to... go on little... 'rat dates' or something."

It was an incredibly strange way to diffuse an argument, but it actually seemed to be working. Ron appeared to find the idea of his rat running off to engage in a rodent romance a much better option than him being dead. Behind her, Hermione cleared her throat.

"I'm really sorry that Scabbers is missing again, but it's not because of Crookshanks." she told him, sounding like she genuinely meant it. "Maybe we should wait for a couple of days and if he doesn't turn up, we'll all go look for him. Tame rats aren't used to hunting for themselves, so he won't have gone very far."

Ron slumped a bit, then nodded. "Alright." he said. Connie half thought he was going to apologize, but instead he gave her a small look of warning. "But I'm telling you, if I see one thing... One** tiny** little sign he had anything to do with it, your cat is as good as buttered toast."

Well, it wasn't exactly the way she would have chosen the argument to come to an end, but it looked like that was the best they were going to get.

* * *

><p>After having a bit of light lunch in the Great Hall, the students who wished to participate in the Hogsmeade visit went out to congregate in the courtyard outside the main entrance. McGonagall stood at the top of the stone steps, accepting permission slips from the third years as she spoke to them about how they were expected to behave.<p>

"These visits to Hogsmeade are a privilege." she told them. "Should your behavior reflect poorly on the school, this privilege can and will be removed. Mr. Filch will escort you and once you've arrived, the villagers will be keeping an eye out for any rule breaking. I expect each and every one of you to conduct yourselves as proper ladies and gentlemen."

Constance caught Fred and George exchange a mischievous look between themselves. Knowing them, they would do everything they could to push the boundaries of how a 'proper gentleman' was expected to behave. She just rolled her eyes and ignored it. As they were checking to make sure they all remembered to bring their money for any purchases, Harry cleared his throat.

"Hey, would you guys wait up for a minute?" he asked them. "I've got to ask McGonagall about something."

They all paused. "Sure." Ron told him, then looked curious. "What's going on?"

Harry pulled his Hogsmeade permission slip out of his jacket pocket and showed it to them. The line designated for a signature was blank. Hermione gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed. "You wont be able to come with us if that's not signed!"

"I know." the boy said. "I asked my uncle about it, but then the whole thing with aunt Marge happened and... well... he wasn't too keen on signing anything for me after that. I was hoping McGonagall would do it."

Connie shook her head thoughtfully. "But she's a teacher. Harry, I don't think she could sign it, even if she wanted to."

"She's our head of house though. That makes her like a guardian, doesn't it?" Ron pointed out, frowning at Harry's permission slip. "Those muggles are right awful, so they're bound to bend the rules a little. It wouldn't be fair!" he gave Harry a small push back towards the castle. "Go on, mate. McGonagall would do anything for you. We'll wait."

So Constance, Hermione, Ron, and the twins stayed back and watched as Harry walked up the stone steps to talk to Professor McGonagall. They were too far away for any of them to hear what was being said, but it didn't look like the conversation was going well. McGonagall shook her head with an apologetic frown and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. As she turned to walk away, Harry looked back at them with a downtrodden expression on his face.

"Sorry guys." he said. "I guess... I'll see you when you get back."

This was awful! There was no good reason why he shouldn't be allowed to come to the village with them. The only thing that was holding him back was his stupid uncle's refusal to sign a piece of parchment for him. As they watched him turn to go back into the castle alone, Fred nudged George in the ribs.

"You thinking what I'm thinking, George?"

George cocked his head to the side, studying Harry's back. "Time to pass on the legacy, is it?"

"Absolutely." Fred replied, then shot a look over at the three of them. "You guys go on without us."

George nodded. "We've got to hunt Mihnea down to take care of some business anyway. We'll catch up with you at the village."

Without another word of explanation, the pair of them bounded off toward Harry. When they caught up to him, they hooked their arms into his elbows and dragged him behind one of the exterior corners of the castle. Hermione pursed her lips.

"What on earth are they up to?" she questioned, peering at Constance sideways like she expected her to know all about it. "Pass on the legacy?"

"And what's that about hunting down Bassarab for some business?" Ron asked.

The girl shrugged. "Hell if I know."

They must be working with Mihnea on something. Her cousin hadn't mentioned anything to her about it, but he had been off doing his own thing for a while, so she hadn't had many opportunities to talk to him. She secretly wondered if they were going to show Harry where the secret passageway to Honeydukes was. She'd been warned to keep its location a secret. But with him being barred from going to Hogsmeade for a dumb reason, they'd probably take it upon themselves to help him sneak out. If George did it for the sake of a date, then they would do it for Harry.

"Come on then." Ron said with a sigh. He gestured toward the large group of students that had gotten ahead of them. "Filch will raise hell if we fall too far behind."

* * *

><p>The hike to Hogsmeade was lengthy, but pleasant. There was plenty of gorgeous scenery to keep the eyes interested, and the sight of the village itself was a welcome one. Connie had already been to most of the shops and didn't have a preference for where they went first. She resolved herself to following Ron and Hermione as they looked around at everything.<p>

"We **have **to go to the Three Broomsticks and have a butterbeer." Ron declared like he wasn't going to be argued with. "It's the best drink in the world and we're old enough to order them now."

Butterbeer was supposed to be a very popular drink in the magical world. Apparently it had a small bit of alcohol in it, so people who were underage couldn't order one in a pub unless they had it with food. Hermione seemed to be thinking along similar lines. She suggested that they walk around and explore for a while to give themselves time to work off the small lunch they'd had before leaving. Ron responded with a pout and said that he was ready to eat something already. It wasn't a terribly surprising thing to hear from him, because Ron Weasley was** always **hungry. Maybe that was some sort of guy thing. She'd noticed boys tended to eat a lot more than should be possible. But he did eventually give up the fight and agreed to move on. They decided to check out one of the more interesting sights the village had to offer.

The Shrieking Shack was a small, run down building on the outskirts of the village that was reported to be the most haunted place in Britain. People who lived in Hogsmeade claimed that they sometimes heard loud, anguished screams and eerie moans emanating from the building at night. However, during the daylight hours, the shack appeared... well... rather boring looking, if Connie were honest with herself. No different from any other old, abandoned house. The three of them leaned over the rickety fence that bore signs warning visitors of the haunting that surrounded the property.

"It **is** a bit creepy looking..." Hermione commented. She looked around at them. "Do you think we could get closer?"

Constance's interest was pricked and she agreed that she would like to get closer to check it out. Ron, however, looked stricken.

"Get closer!" he exclaimed. "B...b..but it's haunted!"

Connie rolled her eyes. "Hogwarts is haunted." she pointed out.

"Well... yeah, but they're **nice** ghosts." he said, shooting a worried glance at the shack. "This place has right nasty ones!"

Hermione sniffed and put her hands on her hips. "Has anyone ever actually seen the ghosts of the Shrieking Shack?"

"No one has to see them, Hermione!" he fired back. "You can hear them howling at night! Making sounds like they're tearing each other apart..."

The girls looked at each other. Ron was just being silly. Ghosts were the spirits of the dead and they couldn't manipulate physical objects. The Hogwarts ghosts could walk right through people without doing more than giving them an icy chill. Even if the spirits themselves were terrifying in appearance, there was nothing they could actually do to harm them. Hermione quirked a brow, and Connie cleared her throat.

"Okay, Ron." she said. "We understand. Hermione and I can go to the shack, and you can just stay here by yourself."

The boy blinked at her. "Do what?" he asked. "But..."

"Really, Ron, it's fine." Hermione told him, sensing what she was doing. "There's two of us, so we'll be okay. Just remember to keep an eye out for anything strange because I've heard ghosts sometimes wander around outside the places they haunt."

Without another word, the two girls hooked their arms together and walked through the gate into the small yard of the shack. All of five seconds passed before they heard the sound of Ron running toward them.

"Hey, wait for me!" he called out.

When he skidded to a halt next to Hermione, Constance arched a brow at him. "You decided to come?"

"Well, it wouldn't be right to let you go in there alone, would it?" he asked. He puffed out his chest in a faux display of bravery that made him look ridiculous. "You girls need a man with you. You know, in case you get scared."

Hermione looked so amused that it looked like she wanted to start laughing. Connie herself had to put a hand over her face to keep Ron from hearing her snort. For all his going on about them needing a 'man' with them, Ron didn't seem too keen on taking the lead. He was perfectly comfortable with letting them open the door and step inside the shack first. After the two of them were inside, the boy put one foot over the threshold, leaned in to take a quick look around the dusty entrance way, then grabbed their arms to pull them back.

"Okay, we went inside the shack." he said quickly. "Let's go now."

"Oh, for God's sake, Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed in irritation. She jerked her arm out of his grip. "That doesn't count! We haven't had time to look around!"

To be perfectly honest, there wasn't that much to see. The inside of the shack was barren. Devoid of all traces of furniture, with every surface covered in thick layers of dust from years of sitting unused. The boards that made up the wooden floor were so warped that they pulled apart from each other, leaving wide gaps between them. Some actually jutted up from the floor enough to pose the risk of making someone trip over their feet if they weren't careful. The first floor seemed to be comprised of a single room. However, the walls were built at odd angles, giving the impression of more rooms even though the spaces between the openings were much too wide for doors. At the far left end of the space there was an ancient looking wooden staircase. It was incredibly rickety and unstable looking, and Connie imagined it wouldn't be safe for any of them to walk on it. The smallest bit of weight would probably make the steps crumble out from beneath their feet. But aside from the eeriness of it being abandoned, there were no signs of a haunting that she could sense. No hot or cold spots, no odd specters, and no disembodied voices or sounds. Nothing at all.

"It's so quiet here..." Hermione commented.

She took a small step forward and the board under her foot let out a loud creak. Ron jumped almost a foot into the air.

"What was that?" he whimpered.

God, why did he have to be so jumpy? This place wasn't that scary.

"It's just the floor, Ron." Connie told him. She put her weight down on her right foot to make it creak again. "See? The boards are just warped." she paused and looked around, frowning. "I don't think this place is haunted at all. It's just creepy lookin..."

"Bloody hell, what is **that**!" Ron exclaimed, cowering at the sight of something behind her.

Constance and Hermione both whirled around to see what he was pointing at. It moved too fast to make out clearly, but Connie saw a large, black shape dart down the staircase at the end of the room, then disappear behind a wall. Given how nothing should have been inside of the shack with them, it gave both of the girls quite a shock. They both gasped and jumped back.

"What the... did you see that?" Connie whispered.

Hermione's head bobbed, her eyes wide. "I **definitely** saw that."

Behind them, Ron was still whimpering in fear, looking around at the room like he thought something was going to jump out and attack them. "Oh, we need to leave. Please tell me we can leave? I don't want to die by ghost..."

"It wasn't a ghost." Connie said, the shock of what she had seen wearing off. "Whatever that thing was, it was solid."

"It was running too." Hermione pointed out, keeping a watchful eye on the wall the black shape had disappeared behind. "Ghosts float. It... it was probably an animal."

"A bloody **huge** animal!" Ron exclaimed. He pulled at their arms again. "It might have been the Grim! Please can we go now? Please, please, please..."

Connie pulled her arm out of his grip and stepped forward. Given the size of what she had seen, it could have been a large dog. If she thought about it, it had been low to the floor and had moved like one... But they all had stood there, staring at that wall for a while now and nothing had come out from behind it. There wasn't even any sound to indicate something was hiding behind it. That meant that either the animal was doing a damn good job of keeping quiet, or there was another room or hallway back there. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but Connie wanted to see what was over there. Animals only attacked people when they felt threatened, and if that dark shape had been running past them, it probably didn't have rabies. It would have growled or done something to alert them to it's presence. Most likely, the creature was just scared. When she slid forward another inch, Ron let out a sound that was half whimper, half squeak.

"What are you doing...?"

She glanced back to see the boy had a look of complete terror on his face. Hermione appeared to understand what she was doing, but she was still cautious.

"We don't need to get too close." she whispered. "If it's a wild animal..."

"I don't want to get close to it." Connie told her. "I just want to see what it is."

To make them feel better, she drew out her wand. The girl honestly didn't think she would need it, but **if** whatever it was decided to attack, she'd be able to defend herself. Taking small, miniscule steps, Connie slowly inched herself toward the wall. When she was close enough, she took a step sideways to peer around it. There was nothing beyond that she could see. Confused, she lowered her wand and walked into the room. There was nothing. No animal and no places where one could possibly hide. It was just an empty space.

"There's nothing in here." she called back.

"Do what?" Hermione asked. She and Ron made their way over to get a look for themselves. "But we all saw it!"

Indeed they had. And three people seeing the exact same thing pretty much ruled out that one of them had been hallucinating. Connie paused when she noticed something on the floor. Paw prints. There was such a thick layer of dust on the ground that the prints of whatever had walked in here were left behind for them to see. They looked very much like dog tracks, and they trailed from the opening in the wall where they were standing all the way over to the corner where they just... disappeared. As if it had just walked right through the wall. Constance felt a chill run down her spine. The black shape they had seen was **solid**. She was sure of it. But a solid object couldn't pass through another solid object unless something incredibly strange was going on. Maybe the Shrieking Shack was haunted after all. But it would have to be a type of haunting no one had ever heard of...

Hermione's eyes widened when she saw where the paw prints led, while Ron just kept looking around wildly.

"Something's not right here." the girl said. "Ron's right. We should probably leave."

Connie still wasn't sure if what they had encountered was dangerous or not, but she didn't argue. Something weird was going on in that shack and she didn't really want to stick around to find out if it could hurt them or not.

* * *

><p>A.N: Can you tell I watched Scooby Doo today? Ron always reminds me of Shaggy in a weird way. Maybe someone should buy him some Scooby Snacks to make him braver. Or get him a giant Great Dane that can talk.<p>

Reviews are like rainbows and glitter! O_o Don't ask.


	43. Big Spender

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

When Mihnea tracked down the Weasley twins to ask for a set of extendable ears, he had been expecting to have to pay for them. However, their reaction to his request wasn't what he thought it would be.

"So Connie told you about our ears, eh?" Fred had said. "What does someone like you need them for anyway? I hear you're good at listening in on people without any help."

"Well, lets just say that the person I** want** to listen in on is starting to realize that I'm paying attention to what he's doing." Mihnea replied. "I get sent on errands before he'll hold any meetings in his office now."

"**Ah.** Sounds like you're talking about Snape." Fred said meaningfully. "Say no more. We've got you."

George studied him. "If you need a set of extendable ears we could let you borrow ours, but we don't know if we can make a new set just for you."

Mihnea's brows furrowed. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Why not?"

"They're finicky little buggers." Fred told him. "Hard to make. We'd been fiddling with ours for nearly two years before we got them working right."

George nodded. "Technically, we **could** make a new set, but..." he frowned at his brother. "We had a bit of a run in with our mother and we don't have the resources for it anymore."

"The supplies are expensive." Fred clarified. "We had loads of stuff put back just in case, but mom set fire to everything. We managed to save the few notes we kept, but we don't have the money to replace the rest."

Jesus Christ, and Connie had spent a week at their house? Their mother sounded like a nightmare to deal with. His mom might get mad if she found out about him doing something she didn't approve of, but Mihnea couldn't imagine her destroying anything that belonged to him, no matter how awful it was. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It was starting to sound like this was going to be a bit more complicated than he thought it would be, but he** really** wanted these things. Money wasn't really an issue for him, but it obviously was for the twins. He just needed to know what sort of timeline he was looking at. It was time to start bargaining.

"How long would it take you to make them if you had everything you needed?" he asked.

Fred and George looked at each other. "A few weeks." they said in unison. "It's hard to say for sure, but it shouldn't take longer than two... three at the most."

_That's not so bad... _Mihnea cleared his throat. "I'll pay for all the supplies." he told them, then paused. If they were going to put weeks of time and effort into something, they deserved to paid for it. He wasn't sure what sort of price they would put on that, but he could make them an offer they couldn't refuse. "First Hogsmeade visit is this weekend. You guys go shopping and get whatever you want. I'll take care of the bill."

The twins eyes lit up with interest. "**Anything** we want?" Fred repeated.

Mihnea inclined his head to show he was serious. "Anything. No holds barred. I've got plenty of money."

* * *

><p>If they had any reservations about his offer, they didn't show it. When they got to the village that weekend, the boy found himself visiting every shop that sold something that could possibly be useful to the twins. Zonko's, of course, wound up being the place where he spent the most. The rest went to various magical supply shops and apothecaries that sold potions ingredients and spell materials they used for their inventions. Mihnea got the impression that they were taking advantage of having free reign to rebuild their stock of supplies. It didn't bother him in the least. He had agreed to it, after all. He rarely bought things anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. Their little shopping spree got him in the mood to make a few purchases for himself. As he was talking to the owner of Honeydukes about getting a case of blood pops (the man never said a word about him buying so many since he had a vampire in his own family), he heard the twins discussing something amongst themselves.<p>

"Hey, what time is it?" Fred asked his brother.

George consulted his watch. "Oh, right! It's about that time."

"Righto. I'll clear a path. Can't have him bumping into someone."

What the devil were they up to? Fred made his way toward the back of the crowded store, while George carried an armful of stuff up to the counter. Rather than sweets that were already made, the twins had pulled out a selection of candy making ingredients. It must have been for something they were working on.

"Do I want to know?" Mihnea asked as he plopped everything down by the cash register.

George blinked at him, then realized he wasn't talking about the stuff he had picked out. He looked back in the direction Fred had gone. "Oh,** that**. McGonagall wouldn't let Potter come because he couldn't get his permission slip signed. We're helping him out a bit."

_Ah._ One of his brows went up. "So you showed him the secret passage?"

Weasley went still and looked at him. "How did...?" then his eyes narrowed, almost accusingly. "You **followed** us last year, didn't you?"

Mihnea just shrugged. "What would you have done if it were you?"

George looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it and just huffed. "Damn, you're good." he paused when he caught sight of the man behind the counter slipping his case of blood pops into a brown paper bag. He watched silently as it was passed to Mihnea. Once the man's attention was diverted toward ringing up the other things, he leaned forward to whisper. "Are those for the...?"

Mihnea shot him a look. "Yes."

George seemed to understand his non verbal warning of not saying too much out loud. He studied the bag, then cleared his throat.

"I've always wondered about those things." he commented quietly. "I thought they were supposed to be a joke."

It was strange, knowing that Weasley knew enough that he could talk about something without having to worry about it. With the way it was phrased, no one around them would understand what they were talking about. The large amount of people made it noisy enough that it would be hard to hear them anyway.

"No, they're real." Mihnea replied. "And I've heard they're not bad."

"Huh." George said, looking like he found it interesting and nothing more. "Well, that's awesome for them."

This was the first time he and Weasley had ever talked to each other about anything directly relating to vampires, and Mihnea found himself intrigued by his attitude. He'd heard from Connie about the way George acted, but hadn't really seen much for himself. He honestly wasn't that bad after all. Mihnea felt a small tug and looked down. Pixie had her eyes focused on a display of chocolates and was pulling at her leash like she wanted to get free so she could feast on them. He rolled his eyes and reached down to pick her up.

"No, baby, chocolate is bad for you." he told her. "You can't have it."

She gave him a disgruntled meow and tried to squirm out of his arms. George just watched the scene in amusement.

"I can't believe you keep your cat on a leash like a dog." he said.

"She doesn't like being left at the castle by herself." he replied. "And if I let her run loose here, she'd get into something."

He'd brought her to Hogsmeade once without a leash and Pixie had been so enamored by the smell of food wafting out of the pubs that it had taken him two hours of searching to figure out where the hell she was. His cat didn't particularly like being put on a leash, but she had gotten used to it. The only thing she seemed to enjoy was wearing the harness. She was too big and had gotten too strong for a simple collar. Pixie could wriggle her way out of one with enough effort. But the harnesses that she had to put her legs through were impossible to break out of. She seemed to find them more comfortable than an ordinary collar as well. Mihnea wound up with a whole collection of them, and his cat had first choice of which one she got to wear. For the past week, she had a thing for the pale blue one with white rhinestones. How he had wound up with such a damn girly feline, the boy had no idea. But Pixie was his baby, so she generally got what she wanted if he was able to give it to her.

The cashier finally finished tallying up the other purchases and Mihnea handed over the appropriate amount of money. George was gathering up the bags when Fred showed up. He moved deliberately, like he was trying to keep something no one could see behind him where it wouldn't be touched. When he came closer, Mihnea could pick out Potter's scent. He must be hiding under that invisibility cloak he'd heard about. If other students saw him, he'd get in trouble for sneaking out, so he had to remain out of sight. Fred grabbed a couple of bags to take a load off of George.

"You fill him in?" he asked, glancing at Mihnea.

He quirked a brow. "You won't get any trouble from me." he told him.

"Excellent!" Fred replied, then turned his head slightly and lowered his voice so no one would hear him. "Stay close and don't touch anyone."

Yes, Potter was hiding, and the twins were keeping him from doing anything that would get him discovered. Once they all were outside of the store and in open air again, they didn't have to worry so much about people hearing stray bits of conversation. Fred and George had gotten so much stuff from various stores that there was no way for them to carry it all. They had to conjure up a wagon to put all the bags in. Mihnea put Pixie back down on the ground and drew his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket to slide them on. The sun was bright and while it didn't usually bother him, it was still annoying. Potter's disembodied voice came out from where he had to be standing between the twins.

"Bassarab's in on this too?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"Shush!" George told him, not looking at the space the voice had come from. "We're all mates, so no worries."

The younger boy waited until they reached the outskirts of the village where there were fewer people to pull his invisibility cloak off. Potter appeared to be relieved by the feel of the autumn air. Mihnea could imagine it got hot under that thing after a while.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Mihnea, looking cautious.

"What, him?" Fred said, jerking a thumb in his direction. "He's with us. Just doing a spot of business."

Mihnea couldn't help but be amused by how guarded Harry was acting. It was too irresistible. "I won't bite you, Potter." he said.

The boy remained watchful, but seemed to loosen up a bit. George glanced back toward the village. "Where do you suppose the others have gone off too? We told them we'd catch up."

"Don't know, but we'd have the most luck hanging around one of the pubs." Fred commented. "You know Ickle Ronnikins isn't going to go long without wanting to eat."

One of Mihnea's brows went up slightly. He didn't know much about the younger Weasley, but if Constance was with them, he had a pretty good idea of where their little gang might be.

"If Connie had any say in where they went, they'll be in the most dangerous place they can find." he piped up.

The twins looked at each other meaningfully. "The Shrieking Shack it is!"

* * *

><p>Mihnea's suspicion turned out to be correct. When they reached the line of trees surrounding the Shrieking Shack, the four boys saw Connie, Weasley, and Granger standing just outside the gate of the property. They were doubled over, breathing heavily like they'd been running. Before any of them could call out to announce their presence, Malfoy showed up with his little group of buddies to make a royal ass of himself. He made out like the only reason the three of them were there was for Ron to check out his 'dream home' since his family all lived in one room. The moment that comment left Draco's mouth, Fred and George looked like they wanted to jump out and strangle him. Potter, however, took the initiative. He disappeared under his invisibility cloak before anyone could say or do anything, then went over to scare the ever living shit out of them. Draco got shoved down on his ass and hit in the head with a stick, then Goyle had his trousers pulled down to his ankles before being whirled around so fast it made him too dizzy to stand. Mihnea was satisfied with just watching. Potter wasn't half bad – using the rumors of the shack being haunted to get away with terrorizing his enemies like he was. Not bad at all.<p>

When the three younger Slytherins finally pulled themselves together enough to run away screaming and tripping over each other, Mihnea and the twins decided it was time to step out of the collection of trees. Constance and Granger were laughing merrily. Ron looked more anxious, though still thankful that Malfoy and his friends were gone. Connie caught sight of them out of the corner of her eye and looked over.

"Please tell me you guys had something to do with that!" she said, still laughing.

The older boys all shook their heads. "Nope." the twins replied with identical grins. "It wasn't us."

Granger sobered a bit and looked around. "Then who..."

Ron froze stiff as a board and whimpered when something none of them could see flipped the ties of his jacket up and down. Granger saw it and went wide eyed. She reached forward and grabbed, pulling the top of the invisibility cloak off of Potter's head. It was a bit disconcerting to see the boy's head floating in the air, devoid of a body, but they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Weasley exclaimed, trying to brush off the expression of fright he'd been wearing. "Did you** have** to do that? You took a few years off my life!"

Potter just snickered with his tongue held between his teeth. Now that everyone was aware that he was with them, Connie asked the twins if they had helped him get out of the castle without being caught. Fred and George reported that Harry had gotten himself out, though they had given him a hand in figuring out how to do it. Apparently, they had a map that depicted the castle and grounds of Hogwarts, as well as all the people within and what they were doing. When they saw Potter was banned from coming to Hogsmeade with the rest of them, they decided that his needs outweighed theirs and gave it to him as a gift. Mihnea was impressed. A magical object like that would be a handy thing to have in a tight spot, and considering that the escaped wizard on the loose was looking for Harry, that map might give him advance warning if he managed to get into the castle. Granger showed off her Gryffindor colors by making a fuss about Harry needing to turn it into a teacher when they got back. It was no wonder she and Constance were such good friends. The girl didn't seem to mind breaking dozens upon dozens of school rules when it suited her, and yet she was still going to badger someone else about doing it? As she and Potter were having their little argument, Mihnea noticed Ron giving Pixie some weird looks.

"You have a problem with my cat, Weasley?" he asked.

The younger boy immediately snapped to attention and shook his head. "No! Absolutely not. I've just..." he stopped, looking like he wasn't sure whether he should talk at all and risk making him mad. "I've never seen a cat on a leash before..."

Mihnea rolled his eyes and sighed. Was it truly that big of a deal? "It keeps her out of trouble." he said, giving the same explanation he'd used on George.

"Oh... Huh." Ron said, then nudged Granger in the ribs. "You should get one of those for Crookshanks."

The girl turned away from Potter and narrowed her eyes. "Don't you **dare** go off on that ridiculous rant of yours again." she warned. "I told you my cat had nothing to do with it."

Since he had no idea what they were talking about, Connie had to explain. Once he'd been filled in on the situation, Mihnea arched a brow.

"Let me get this straight. You let your rat run loose in an area where you **know** there's a cat that likes to chase it around, and you're upset because he might, possibl**y **have been eaten?" he asked.

Hermione pointed at him, appearing vindicated. "See? That's** exactly** what I've been saying!"

Ron puffed up like he was going to argue about it, but was stopped.

"Guys, please!" Harry interjected before the two of them could say anything else. "You agreed to stop fighting about this."

From the way it sounded, the boy had been asking for it, Mihnea thought to himself. Allowing an animal that was known prey for other animals in the area to run around loose was just begging for something bad to happen. Constance quickly diverted everyone's attention by suggesting they head back to the village and get a drink from the Three Broomsticks. Apparently the three of them had been planning on it before he and the twins arrived. It was a short walk, but it required going back through the small collection of trees again. Potter would be free to enjoy the open air until they reached an area with more people. However, the moment the main strip of Hogsmeade came into view, every one of them gave a noticeable pause.

"Bloody hell..." Fred muttered. "What's **he** doing here?"

"What?" Granger asked, peering in the direction the twins were looking. "Who?"

George pushed Harry back where he wouldn't be spotted, then pointed toward an open, black carriage that Professor McGonagall and man Mihnea had never seen before were climbing out of. They had stopped right in front of the Three Broomsticks, and the short man in dark colored robes held out a hand in greeting to the owner, Madam Rosemerta.

"That's Cornelius Fudge." he told them. "He wouldn't be here if something important weren't going on."

"Fudge!" Connie exclaimed, taking a small step back. "**That's** the Minister for Magic?"

_Damn it all to hell._ Though Mihnea knew it couldn't possibly have anything to do with him or Constance, he didn't feel the least bit comfortable with that man being around. Potter peered around everyone's shoulders to get a look for himself.

"Yeah, that's him." he said. "I remember him from the Leaky Cauldron."

The boy suddenly went still and listened intently to the conversation he was having with Rosemerta. It sounded like the woman was upset about loosing business because of the presence of dementors in the area. Fudge attempted to soothe her by saying it was necessary with a killer on the loose. But when the owner of the pub asked why Sirius Black would have any interest in coming to Hogsmeade, Potter's name was dropped. McGonagall quickly shushed the Minister and gestured for all of them to go inside the pub before they were eavesdropped on.

"Blimey..." Ron whispered. "They're talking about you, Harry."

Potter's brows furrowed. "They might say something important." he commented. "We need to get closer."

That was a great plan, except for one problem. After Harry pulled his invisibility cloak back on and they headed over to the entrance of the pub, one of the female employees kept them from getting inside.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "But there's no underage wizards allowed in today. You'll have to come back another time."

Fred and George gaped at her. "Do what?" they said in unison. "There's never been a rule about that before!"

The blonde witch gave the two of them a look. "Well, there is **today.**" she announced. "Now, I'm very sorry for the inconvenience, but I have to ask you to leave."

They all retreated a few steps back when the door was shut in their faces and looked around at each other.

"They're probably only doing that because the Minister is in there." Connie commented with a frown.

"Yeah, but if he's going to talk to them about Black, he wouldn't have a conversation in the middle of a pub, would he?" Ron asked. "She said it's only underage wizards who aren't allowed in."

"Because underage wizards are more likely to snoop around, smart one. The Three Broomsticks has rooms on the upper floors." Mihnea said, thinking out loud. "If they were going to talk about something important, they'd go up there where they wouldn't be heard."

He gave Constance a meaningful look, then turned his gaze toward the empty spot where he knew Potter was standing. He and his cousin were supposed to be acting as spies to gather important information for their family. Something like this definitely qualified. But if they couldn't get inside themselves, they would have to find a more creative solution. He handed Pixie's leash off to his cousin.

"Potter, keep your mouth shut and follow me." he said, then turned on his heel to walk back toward the pub.

"What do you think you're doing?" Granger hissed from behind him.

Mihnea paused and glanced over his shoulder. "You want to find out what they're talking about, don't you?" he asked, sliding his sunglasses down his nose. Though he couldn't see Harry, he could tell from his scent that he hadn't moved. "I suggest you move your ass, Potter. The longer you stand there twiddling your thumbs, the further ahead of you they'll get."

That seemed to get through to the boy. His scent grew stronger, indicating to Bassarab that he'd walked closer. At least Potter had some sense about him. Now that he was assured that he was going to go along with the plan, Mihnea just had to distract the door girl long enough for him to get inside. That wouldn't be terribly difficult. He was capable of being quite charming when he wanted to be. People who worked at pubs generally weren't paid very well They did it because they liked the social interaction, or because they needed the money. And the girl who had barred their entrance didn't seem to actually like her job. She did it because she had to.

When the woman opened the door, she didn't look very happy to see him. Her hazel eyes narrowed.

"I **told** you there are no underage wizards allowed in today." she said, repeating the statement she'd used last time she saw him.

Mihnea took off his glasses and gave her his best winning smile. "I understand and I apologize for taking up your time. I know you must be very busy. But, you see, my friends over there were hoping to have their first taste of butterbeer." he pointed back to where the others were standing. "It's their first visit to Hogsmeade and they've really been looking forward to it."

She glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at him. "I'm very sorry, but rules are rules. I can't let you inside."

"Oh, I know." he replied, nodding in understanding. "I was just wondering if you could get a few for us. We wouldn't have to come inside for it. You could just pass them through the door and we'll drink them outside. There's no harm in that, is there?" When he saw her thoughtful pause, he sensed that she was considering it. He cleared his throat. "It's just a six-pack of butterbeer. I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

The woman studied him. "We can only sell alcoholic beverages inside the pub." she said. "I could get in a lot of trouble..."

Mihnea reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag he kept his money in. "I don't know if I could stand working in a place like this." he began, pouring a healthy pile of sickles and galleons out into his hand. "Too noisy, and I hear the pay isn't very good." he held the money out to her. "Just one six-pack. You can keep the change for yourself."

Given the amount of money he was offering, there was going to be a** lot of** change left. She'd be getting a hell of a lot more than the butterbeer itself was worth. He could see the gears inside her head turning as if her mind were an open book. Such a large tip, and dozens of things she could use the money for. She certainly wouldn't get such an amount from any other customer... The woman gazed intently at the money for a long moment, then took the coins and put them into one of the pockets of her dress.

"Wait here." she instructed, then narrowed her eyes again. "Not a soul knows about this, you understand? And if anyone sees you with these drinks, you didn't get them from me."

Mihnea inclined his head. "I don't even know your name, love."

With that, she nodded in understanding, then withdrew into the pub to retrieve the drinks. The moment she was gone, Mihnea nonchalantly pushed the door open wider so Harry could get through. He felt a small brush against his side as he slid by, then Potter was gone. The woman came back with the six-pack and gave him another warning not to reveal where they had come from. The door was shut in his face for a second time, and Mihnea headed back toward the others.

Everyone except Constance was gaping like a fish. He just put his sunglasses back on and held up the pack of bottles he'd just bought.

"You wanted drinks?"

* * *

><p>They decided to head back toward the wooded area near the pub to sit down. There were a couple of benches over there that were away from the main flow of traffic, so they'd be less likely to be seen drinking something they shouldn't have outside. Mihnea was the only one who chose to sit on the ground. He was propped up against a tree with Pixie sitting in his lap. It was a little bit away from the others and he kept his eyes trained on the door of the Three Broomsticks. Watchful for the smallest sign of Harry's exit.<p>

"You know, he's really not that bad." Ron commented quietly as he pulled the cork out of his bottle. "For a Slytherin."

Connie wanted to roll her eyes. It took him nearly three years to figure that out, did it? But she supposed it was better late than never. Beside her, Hermione was studying Mihnea curiously.

"Why isn't he sitting with us?" she asked in a low voice. "He's not over there because he thinks we don't want him around, is he?"

Constance shook her head. But before she could open her mouth to explain that he was a bit old fashioned, Mihnea's voice carried over.

"It's common courtesy to allow girls or people younger than you to have your seat." he said.

Fred and George looked at each other. "Hey now!" Fred called out. "You don't have to treat us like we're babies. The three of us are the same age!"

Mihnea glanced at him and pointed to himself. "I'll be sixteen in a couple of weeks and your birthdays aren't until April. I'm the oldest, so stop complaining."

Technically speaking he was closer to being a full year older than the twins, but his birthday was marked as being in November since that was when Alucard found him. Picking that day was easier than trying to figure out exactly when he was 'born'. Six or seven months didn't really make that big of a difference in the grand scheme of things.

From the way she was acting, Hermione felt that it was awkward to be around someone who was helping them without including them in some manner of conversation. She cleared her throat.

"So... what were you three doing here together?" she asked in an attempt to break the silence. "I wasn't aware you guys were friends..."

Mihnea looked thoughtful, but the twins took care of the response. "Bassarab and Georgie here worked out some kind of truce over the summer." Fred announced. "We decided right then and there we'd all play nice."

Ron's brows furrowed. "Truce? I didn't know you guys ever fought! What do you need a truce for?"

Mihnea slid his glasses down his nose to peer at him. "Once the boys start noticing your sister, you'll learn all about what a 'truce' means. Ginny is a pretty girl, Weasley."

The moment the words left his mouth, Ron bristled and looked like he wanted to jump up from his seat. "Don't talk that way about **my **sister!"

"That's it, right there." Mihnea said, gesturing to him. "**That's** why we needed a truce." he paused to give him a reassuring look. "And I was only making an observation. Calm down."

"**Anyway.**" George piped up, bringing the subject back on track. "Mihnea wanted a set of extendable ears for himself, so we worked out a business arrangement. He said we could get anything we wanted today and he'd pay for it."

One of Connie's brows went up as she glanced at the wagon full of bags they'd been pulling around. "So that's what all that stuff is?" she asked. "I was wondering where you got the money for all of it..."

Fred and George puffed up proudly. "Yep!" they said in unison. Fred looked over at her cousin. "How much did we spend today, anyway? We haven't been keeping track."

Mihnea turned to dig around in his pockets and pulled out a stack of receipts. He glanced through them as if doing some mental calculations. "Mmm... you're up to about... 130 galleons. Give or take a few."

The twins immediately went very still, looking horrified. "No way! You** let **us spend that much?" they asked.

Mihnea shrugged. "That was part of the deal."

"No, mate!" George exclaimed. "Absolutely not! That's **way** too much! We could never charge that much for a set of ears!"

Fred leaned over to rifle through the bags in the wagon. "We got a little crazy and weren't thinking." he said. "We really don't need all this stuff. Some of it can go back..."

"If you start taking things back to stores to get your money back, I'm going to get offended, and you do **not** want to see me when I'm offended." Mihnea interjected. His tone was calm, but the look in his eyes was serious. "I was always taught that you get what you pay for. Consider this my way of making damn sure that these things are a worthwhile investment." When he noticed the twins didn't appear terribly comfortable with that, he sighed. "If it bothers you that much, you can write it down as a credit. If I ever need something from you in the future, I get it for free until we're even."

Fred and George looked at each other consideringly. "That sounds fair..." they said.

"You have to let us pay for the butterbeer though." George said. "It's not right for you to have to pay for that too."

Mihnea snorted. "I bought that stuff so Potter would have a way to get inside." he said. "None of you asked for it, so it's mine. I don't like butterbeer, so you can have it. Just leave that last one alone for Potter and give the corks to me when you're done."

Constance was aware that Mihnea had his moments of 'niceness', but this was a teensy bit strange for him. The deal with Fred and George, she could understand. It was in his nature to do something like that. But he could have found another way to keep the barmaid occupied without buying something he knew they were all looking forward to getting a taste of. And the request for the corks was just plain weird.

"Since when do you keep butterbeer corks?" she asked.

"I don't." he replied. "I'm saving them for someone else."

_Someone else?_ Who the devil would he be saving them for? If Mihnea was close enough to someone to be willing to do things for them, surely she would know about it. Connie opened her mouth to ask, but was stopped when Mihnea's eyes turned back toward the pub as if he caught sight of something. The others noticed as well and when they followed his gaze, they all saw the door open and shut with no person there who could have done it. Harry must have finished. But after waiting several long moments, there were no footsteps nearby, and no cloak removed. Was he just standing there?

"What's going on?" she asked.

Mihnea couldn't say anything in front of the others, but with his acute senses, he'd be able to figure out exactly where Harry was even if he couldn't see him. Her cousin looked... perplexed. Then his expression softened somewhat.

"I knew it was going to be something bad." he muttered. "Come on."

Ron and Hermione blinked at each other. "What?" Ron asked. "Go where?"

Mihnea pointed off in the opposite direction. "He ran off that way."

"How can you possibly know where he went if you can't see him?" Hermione demanded as she stood up and put her hands on her hips.

Mihnea pushed himself up off the ground and gathered Pixie into his arms. "I have very good hearing." he replied in a short tone. He grabbed the last unopened bottle of butterbeer, then walked off without explaining further.

Since he was their only means of finding out exactly where Harry was, they all jumped up to follow his lead. Mihnea made his way outside of the village itself, to a small outcropping of rock. It was far enough away that no one would ever see them there, but still, Harry remained invisible. As they drew closer to one particular boulder, Constance understood why. It was very quiet, but she distinctly heard the sound of sniffles. Whatever Harry had heard the Minister talk about with Rosemerta and McGonagall, it was bad enough to make him cry. She couldn't recall ever hearing the boy cry over something before, and it was heart wrenching. Mihnea paused before getting too close, and Ron stayed back as well, looking unsure about what to do. But Hermione went directly toward the sound and felt around for where the cloak could be. Once she found it, she gently tugged it off of him.

Harry was hunched over in a slump, his hands pressed to the sides of his face with his elbows resting on his knees. When he felt his cloak pulled off, he looked up – first at Hermione, then around at the others. His eyes were wet, but there was also a... strange expression in them. Something akin to betrayal almost.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry shook his head. "He... he was their friend." he said quietly. "My parents... they were in hiding. They made him their secret keeper and he betrayed them. Sirius Black, he's..." he stopped for a moment and looked around again. "They made him my godfather. And he... **sold** them out like they were nothing! He was their** friend!**"

The last few words were so harsh and bitter, they came close to being an angry shout. Connie put a hand to her mouth in shock. To find out the man who killed your parents and was now hunting you down had been their friend... and he had been close enough to be made Harry's **godfather**. Had things been different, Harry might have been sent to live with him rather than his aunt and uncle. Oh god, that was truly awful.

"Harry." Connie said, going over to drop down in front of him next to Hermione. "Harry, listen to me. It is going to be okay. Black is going to be found and he's going to get what he deserves. Do you hear me?"

When he looked at her, Harry's eyes were filled with a level of hatred she'd never seen in him before. "I hope he finds me." he said in a low voice. "I **want **him to find me. Because when he does, I'm going to be ready and I'm going to kill him."

Considering the situation, he had every right to feel that way. Constance couldn't imagine what she would do if she were in his shoes. She'd probably want to hunt down the bastard and torture him to death. But she wasn't in his shoes and she could understand the importance of clear thinking.

"Harry." she said, quietly but seriously. "I know this is a lot. But... do you remember what Mr. Weasley told you? 'Don't go out looking for him no matter what you hear'. Black is dangerous and that might be exactly what he wants. It would make getting to you easier. You need to stay where it's safe. Make him **work** for it. And if he ever does get to you... he'll have to get through the rest of us first."

Hermione's head bobbed in agreement. "We do this together. We're not going to leave you do deal with this on your own. Ron?"

When they looked over their shoulders, Ron was in full agreement as well. Surprisingly enough, the idea of having to face down a powerful dark wizard if necessary didn't scare him as much as the shack had.

"Right." he said with a nod. "I'm not going to let anything get to my best friend." he crossed his arms over his chest and snorted through his nose.

Fred and George exchanged a look then gave their brother a playful shove in back. "Like you could scare Black off." they said together with a grin. Then they looked over at Harry.

"You think we're going to lay around being wet blankets?" Fred asked. "**Hell** no. Sounds like a mighty good test subject for our new fireworks if you ask me."

"You think if we shoved them up his arse before we lit them, he'd go airborne?" George asked.

"Don't know, but we can sure find out." Fred replied.

Mihnea walked over and silently held out the butterbeer to Harry. The boy studied for a long moment, then turned his eyes up to him.

"But... but there were only six of them." he said, sounding confused. "And there were six of you. I thought..."

"Butterbeer is too sweet for me." Mihnea said. "I've never liked the stuff. I figured you would need it more than anyone else."

Harry was completely taken aback by the action and looked like he wasn't sure of what to do. Finally, he inclined his head and pulled out the cork to take a sip. As the other boys drew closer to their group, Mihnea cleared his throat.

"By the way, Potter, everything I've heard about your parents says they were fighters." he began. "Mine are too. I'm lucky enough to still have both of mine, but if one of them were ever killed and I found out who was responsible, I would hunt them down. Even if it meant burning down the world to do it."

Constance knew that Mihnea was fully capable of doing it too. And for a moment... just a small, fleeting moment, it seemed that he and Harry were in perfect accordance. Her cousin had been through enough suffering as a child that he probably understood the boy's feelings on a deeper level. Maybe it was the idea of a bunch of teenagers talking about how they were going to kick a dark wizard's ass, or maybe it was the small injection of humor the twins through into it. Whatever it was, Harry looked around at all of them and let out a deep breath.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>A.N: I realize that in one of the earlier chapters I referred to Mihnea being thirteen during Christmas holidays when he should have been fourteen. I've gone back and fixed the mistake. Sorry about that, but I suck at math. O_o In my defense, J.K. Rowling isn't that great at math either, so there. ~blows a raspberry~<p>

Reviews are beautiful things!


	44. The Werewolf Lesson

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance found herself wondering if Harry's words that afternoon in Hogsmeade didn't have some form of magical power of their own.

After getting back to the castle and indulging in the Halloween feast in the Great Hall, all the Gryffindors headed up to their common room like they usually did. This time, though, there was a huge crowd of people around the portrait hole that barred them from getting too close.

"Neville's probably gone and forgotten the password again." Ron said with an irritated huff.

Connie and Neville were standing side by side right behind him. "Hey!" the boy exclaimed. "I'm right here!"

Constance narrowed her eyes at Ron and gave him a punch to his back. It wasn't as hard as it could have been, but it was enough to get the point across. The ginger headed boy winced and apologized. Meanwhile, Ginny managed to fight her way through the crowds to get to them. The poor girl had tears in her eyes, looking horrified about something.

"The fat lady! She's gone!" she told them in a worried sounding voice. "And the portrait has been ripped up... like an animal attacked it!"

Good God in heaven, what had happened while they were out? The news made everyone around them go into a confused panic. Portraits didn't just randomly get ripped up, and their contents didn't disappear for no reason. Percy, who was now acting as Head Boy, kept yelling at everyone to calm down, but no one listened to him. Dumbledore was called and he pushed his way through the mass of students to examine the portrait. After taking one look at it, he ordered Filch to search all the paintings in the castle to find the fat lady.

They wound up finding her in a painting of an African landscape, hiding behind a large hippo. It was difficult to hear her exact words with all the talking going on around them, but Connie distinctly made out the words 'Sirius Black' and 'eyes like the devil'. That horrible man had somehow found his way inside Hogwarts, even with all the protection in place around it. Dumbledore ordered all the students to report to the Great Hall, where they would sleep for the night while the castle was searched.

"How the **bloody hell** did Sirius Black get inside?" She demanded once they all got set up with sleeping bags. "With all the protective enchantments, the dementors, the teachers... and he got all the way up to our dormitory and back out again without being seen! Am I the only one that sees something wrong with this?"

"He probably did it the same way he got out of Azkaban." Ron stated. He looked nervous about the whole thing. "No one can explain how he managed that either."

In Connie's mind, there was a big difference between being able to break out of a prison or get into and out of a heavily guarded castle, and doing it without being noticed by a single soul. Getting past the dementors was understandable. Black had already done it once. Getting past the enchantments was possible. A wizard with enough intelligence and ability could figure out how to break them. And **maybe** it was plausible that he could have snuck past all the staff and ghosts without being seen. But getting to the Gryffindor dormitories required going through the Grand Staircase. There were thousands upon thousands of paintings and portraits lining the walls in there! And the fat lady – who had actually been attacked - was the only one who had seen him? Those damn things had to be in there for a reason, and they obviously weren't doing a very good job of keeping an eye out! Now she had to sleep in the Great Hall, in a sleeping bag on a stone floor, and figure out some way of keeping her gun hidden while doing it. This was a goddamn **nightmare**.

Hermione pursed her lips together, then glanced over at Harry. "How are you doing?' she asked in concern.

Given that he had said he wanted Black to find him only a few hours earlier, the boy was probably shocked it had nearly happened. He paused in rolling out his sleeping bag across the floor.

"I'm okay." he said, then shook his head. "I just... don't want to think about it."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah... I mean, if Fred and George hadn't gotten you out of the castle, you'd have been here when he..."

"You're not helping, Ron!" Harry snapped.

"Oh. Right." Ron said. He slumped, realizing he'd been doing exactly what Harry was trying to avoid. "Sorry."

McGonagall came around to instruct everyone to climb into their sleeping bags and get some sleep. The girls had to keep theirs in a line closest to the wall, while the boys bags were laid out in a row above them, closer to the middle of the room. Each of the houses had their own sections (to avoid fighting, most likely), and everything was arranged so there was a large walkway in the center of the room where the teachers who remained behind could walk back and forth as they did their rounds. Connie wondered how Mihnea would fare like this. With the way he was, she couldn't imagine him having an easy time sleeping while there were other people around... Her thoughts halted when she felt something grab at her toes.

"Connie!" George whispered as softly as possible. "Turn around the other way!"

He had managed to claim the spot that was directly below her feet, meaning that if she opened up her sleeping bag and laid with her head at the bottom, she'd be able to see him. Seeing as how she wasn't going to be getting much sleep anyway, she figured it couldn't hurt. Connie lifted her head slightly to make sure Filch was on the other side of the room, then squirmed around in the bag until she was facing the right way. If she laid on her stomach, she could turn her head a certain way so she could look at him without propping herself up.

"What?" she questioned.

George held a finger up to his lips, then nudged at Fred. It looked like all the boys had positioned themselves the same way he was. Fred grabbed Hermione's feet to get her attention, while Ron did the same with Ginny. Hermione made an irritated noise, like she didn't appreciate being bothered one bit. Ginny seemed more eager to take part in whatever discussion the boys had planned.

Once everyone was facing the right way, Fred lifted his head and looked at each of them. "Alright, so what are everyone's plans for Christmas?"

"Christmas?" Hermione asked. "It's just now Halloween!"

Ron shushed her by holding up a finger. "Yeah, we know, but Mom wants to know if you guys want to come to our house." he said.

Next to him, Harry's eyes lit up. "That's awesome! I figured I would just stay here again, but..." he paused thoughtfully. "Is there enough room for all of us? I mean, your house is great and all, but it is kind of small."

"There's plenty of room." Fred said with a scoff. "We had the girls with us for a week with no trouble. As long as you don't mind sleeping on a cot in his room." he jerked a thumb toward Ron.

Harry looked at Ron and shook his head. "I've done it before, so I don't care." he said. The corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly. "We're in the same dorm here, so I've gotten used to the snoring..."

"I do **not** snore!" Ron exclaimed, looking horrified.

The light from Filch's lantern turned in their direction, forcing all of them to pull the covers over their heads to make it look like they were asleep. Connie heard his heavy footfalls as he marched over to inspect their area. It took a few minutes, but he finally walked away, muttering something about 'damn kids'. Everyone peeked out from under the sleeping bags, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do it again Ron, and I'll shove a dirty sock in your mouth." George warned.

Connie shot him a sharp look, then cleared her throat. "When we stayed with you in the summer, Harry wasn't there and Percy was gone." she pointed out. "Is your brother going home too?"

All the Weasleys shared a mutual look of dislike. "We don't know yet." Fred replied. "He and Dad have been arguing a lot. Percy thinks that the reason we never have much money is because Dad doesn't have any ambition. The stupid prat said he should be willing to let go of some of his 'foolish ideals' to make it further in the Ministry."

Connie's eyes went wide. That was such a horrible thing to say! "He did not!" she said quietly.

"He did." George replied. "He came for a visit after you guys left last time and got into a huge row with Dad about it."

Ron nodded. "You guys have seen our Dad. He hardly ever gets mad and he never yells. But... I **swear**, he was worse than mom that day. They've been going at each other for a while now, but it's never been this bad before."

Fred nodded. "Mom was pissed too. And Ginny..." he paused to glance over at his sister with an approving grin on his face. "Ginny was right brilliant! Dumped a whole plate of food on Percy's head! Me and George were so proud."

Ginny seemed to enjoy the praise, but frowned at the thought of Percy. "The stupid tosspot deserved it." she muttered.

"Anyway, they're still at odds with each other, so we don't know if Percy is going to come home or not." George told them. "With the way things have been lately, Dad might not let him in the house, even if he wanted to come. So we should have two empty rooms like last time."

Fred nodded. "If hell freezes over and Percy **does **show up, one of you girls could stay in one room, and the other share with Ginny."

George shot Connie a playful look and reached out to poke at her nose. "Or me and Fred could split up and you can share a room with me." he offered with a wide smile.

Constance's mouth fell open and she felt her cheeks grow warm. "Shut your mouth!" she said, slapping his hand away from her face.

"What? I'm just saying..."

Fred decided he just **had** to get involved in embarrassing the hell out of her. "Mom and dad wouldn't have to know a thing." he said, doing his best to look serious. "We've gotten good about sneaking around the house at night. I figured you might want to share with Georgie after what happened last time you were at our house..."

The girl narrowed her eyes and was about to tell him exactly where he could stuff it, when Hermione turned her head to examine her accusingly.

"And just **what** exactly happened last time?" she demanded.

"Oh, that's right." Fred said, remembering. "You had gone to bed when it happened, so you wouldn't know." he jerked his thumb at his twin. "George here snuck into Connie's bedroom and **stayed **in there." he shot a mischievous look between the two of them. " For four hours."

Hermione's mouth fell open in shock. "**Four** hours! What on earth were you doing for four hours?"

Constance was certain that her face was a bright shade of red. "With all due respect, it's none of your business what we were doing."

Most of that time had been spent in conversation. However, toward the end, there might possibly have been some serious snogging involved. So much so that she had been forced to use the twins newly invented salve for bruises to hide a few small hickeys on her neck. God knows her mother would have skinned her alive if she came home with one of those. No one else knew about it, but Fred had caught sight of them and made damn sure she knew that he knew at every opportunity. It was a good thing she didn't live with him, because Connie could imagine she would kill Fred if she had to deal with him giving her hell all the time.

From the expression on her face, it was clear that Hermione's mind had gone directly into the gutter and was thinking of the worst possible things that could have happened. Harry was staring with wide eyes, like he couldn't even fathom such a thing, and Ginny had her hand pressed to her mouth, giggling like she thought it was hilarious. Ron, of course, had his hands clamped firmly over his ears so he couldn't hear anything. George just beamed with pride and said he wasn't giving out any details either.

Once their little spot of teasing was out of the way, Connie said she didn't mind sharing with Ginny if she had to. It was a doable plan, seeing as how the youngest Weasley was so enthusiastic about it. The she probably wanted the girls to come so she wouldn't be stuck by herself in a house full of boys. The only problem was that Hermione had given up a skiing trip with her parents to stay at school for the holidays last year, and she had promised them that she would go home to spend Christmas break with them. There was no way she could go to the Burrow. Connie had a similar problem. Christmas was a big deal, and she really didn't want to miss it after being forced to stay at Hogwarts last year. However, it was Christmas day itself that was most important. There were several days before and after that were open. And there was a new factor to consider as well. George had asked her out on their first date on December 22nd, meaning that they had a one year anniversary coming up. God, had it really been that long? It certainly didn't feel like it. When Constance thought about it, she figured that her parents couldn't argue with letting her stay the few days before Christmas at the Burrow if she reminded them of that. She would have to ask to make sure, but she was almost certain they would allow it.

"You're sure you can't come at all?" Ron prodded once Constance confirmed she would come if she could. "Not even for a day or two?"

Hermione looked torn. "I... I would if I could, Ron. I would love to spend Christmas with you guys again. But... me coming to Hogwarts has been really hard on my parents. I attended public school before, so they got to see me every day and we all were really close. Now, I only get to see them on holidays and I don't want them to think that I'm pulling away, or that I love them less because I'm a part of this... new, magical world now. Christmas and summer are the only times I have to spend with them, so I have to go back. For them."

Constance was close to her parents and the Weasleys all came from a big, loving family, so they understood the sentiment. Harry only had his aunt and uncle, but if his parents were alive, he'd probably have the same level of closeness with them. He cleared his throat carefully.

"So, will you be going to the mountains again?" he prodded.

Hermione inclined her head slightly. "It's still early yet, but I think that's the plan. I promise I'll take loads of pictures..."

She was interrupted by a collection of dark figures sweeping through the doorway at the end of the Great Hall. It looked like the teachers were coming back from their search of the castle, and Professor Dumbledore was at the very front. All of them ducked down and pulled the covers over their heads to act like they were asleep. Each teacher reported to the headmaster in soft voices that the areas they'd been assigned to were clear. It then sounded as though they dispersed, but two voices remained behind, speaking quietly to each other. From the soft footfalls, they were slowly walking down the open area toward them.

"It is curious, don't you think, that Black was able to enter the castle undetected?" Snape's silky voice questioned. "Do you have any theories on how he managed it?"

"A thousand theories, Severus." Dumbledore replied. "And each one is more unlikely than the next."

Snape made a sound, like he didn't like the man's comment. "Headmaster, if you recall, before the start of term I expressed great concern about..."

"Your insight is valuable to me, and I appreciate your input as always." Dumbledore interrupted. "But there is no need for concern in this matter."

"Should Potter not be **warned**?"

"Perhaps." the headmaster admitted. "But for now, let him sleep. For it is in dreams that we may be transported beyond the fears of this world. Rest assured, I've seen to it that Mr. Potter is well protected. Beyond what even you could imagine."

* * *

><p>Given that all of them had been wide awake at the time, the others heard the conversation between Snape and Dumbledore as well. But there wasn't enough information at hand to figure out exactly what they meant. Snape's mention of being concerned about something obviously had something to do with Black getting into the castle. Perhaps he noticed some way of him getting in before school started? But Dumbledore talking about ensuring Harry was well protected beyond imagining... that was riddle none could figure out.<p>

"Maybe there are accessory enchantments on the castle he's not told anyone about." Hermione suggested. "It could be any number of things. You can never tell with Dumbledore."

Constance was beginning to wonder if she already knew what this 'extra protection' for Harry was. It was an outlandish idea, really. Something no one in their right mind would consider... but you couldn't exactly say Dumbledore was in his 'right mind'. Being a little crazy could make one do exceptional things that were brilliant, after all.

After all the teachers found that Black was nowhere in the castle, the students were allowed to return to their dormitories the following night. When the weekday began, they were back in classes like always. However, there was one notable difference to be found in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Lupin wasn't in there waiting for them as usual. Instead, once everyone was seated and looking around trying to figure out what was going on, the door at the back opened and Snape entered in a flurry of black robes. He snapped all the windows in the room shut with a wave of his wand, then activated the projector.

"Turn to page 394."

He wasn't even going to explain what he was doing there? But Constance knew better than to question the Potions Master. She figured it had to be for a reason. Harry, however, didn't seem to think about things the same way she did.

"Sir?" he called out without raising his hand. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

Snape gave the boy only a passing glance as he began walking up the row of desks. "I don't believe that's any of your concern, Potter." he said shortly. "Suffice to say, your professor finds himself ill and unable to teach classes at the present time. Now open your** books**. Or do you require lessons in how to appropriately turn a page?"

Snape was in a fouler mood than usual. Constance immediately grew wary. She liked Snape's potions classes and had learned the right way to 'work' with his sort of personality, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't like him at all from the way they spoke about him. Being in the room while they all put their feet in their mouths wasn't going to be very comfortable at all. She shared a desk with Hermione so once Snape got past them, she grabbed her arm under the table and whispered into her ear.

"Don't say a word unless he speaks to you first." she warned. "**Please.**"

If she could have gotten the same warning to the boys without being caught, she would have. But Harry and Ron had a desk one row over from them, so there was no way. When everyone was turning to the page Snape indicated, Ron went very still and stared at it.

"Werewolves?" he questioned much too loudly.

Hermione got her book open to the right place as well and studied the chapter title in surprise. She whirled around in her seat. "But, sir! Professor Lupin has just begun lessons on redcaps and hinkypunks. We're not supposed to cover nocturnal beasts for weeks!"

_Goddammit. _Constance wanted to beat her head against her desk. Why did Hermione have to go and do **exactly** what she told her not to?

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger." Snape said snidely. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Until then, you are to keep your mouth **shut**."

Hermione turned back around and glared at the top of the desk. Snape's voice poured forth, beginning his lecture on werewolves as the projector flipped between multiple images of them from various points in history. Unlike her potions lessons, Constance wasn't the least bit comfortable with this class. Something about it felt so... wrong. Like the only reason Snape was doing it was to prove a point.

"Can anyone tell me how to properly identify a werewolf?" The professor questioned, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione apparently hadn't learned her lesson the first time she spoke. Her hand immediately shot high up into the air. Snape looked around the room, pointedly ignoring her.

"No one?" he asked. "How disappointing."

"Please, sir." Hermione said, then put down her hand as if imaging that she'd been called upon. "Werewolves only endure their forced transformation during the full moon. Their snouts are noticeably shorter than a normal wolf, while the limbs are much longer. Furthermore, they only respond to the call of their own kind..."

Several rows over, Draco put his hands to his mouth and let out a loud howl, which sent the Slytherins sitting around him into a giggling fit. The professor glanced in their direction.

"**Thank you,** Mr. Malfoy." he said, then turned his full attention onto Hermione as he slowly walked forward. "Are you incapable of understanding directions, Miss Granger? I believe I told you to remain quiet until I call upon you. Or perhaps you simply take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

Connie winced at the harshness of the comment, and Hermione completely deflated. Snape turned on his heel to face the projections on the screen, presenting his back to the class.

"Miss Granger has so thoughtfully used her **enormous** intelligence to quote directly from the textbook." he announced, still using that snide, disapproving tone of his. "If I wanted to hear information presented in such a manner, I would enchant the book to read itself." he paused and whirled back around. "Miss Stryker!"

Constance was so startled by the force of his voice, she nearly jumped out of her seat. "Sir?"

"Give me an explanation for all of the qualities mentioned by Miss Granger."

_Oh **shit**. _He wasn't seriously going to put her into this position, was he? But there was no way to argue about it in the middle of class without getting into trouble. She carefully cleared her throat.

"When a werewolf is transformed, it is neither man nor wolf, but has characteristics of both." she began. "It... is logical that the snout would be shorter and the limbs longer than an ordinary wolf, since the human face would have to lengthen and the arms and legs would shorten during the transformation. The vocal chords would undergo a similar change, making them able to produce a wider range of sounds than a wolf, but less than a human. A werewolf would be able to detect the differences and identify a member of it's own kind."

A faint twinkle of triumph showed in his black eyes. "Correct, Miss Stryker." he glanced pointedly at Hermione. "And to think one could formulate an answer **without** looking at the book."

Hermione's nostrils flared and Connie imagined she was going to be pissed as hell once class was over. God, she hoped that one question pitting them against each other would be the end of it...

But it wasn't.

"Can anyone tell me whether it is possible to identify a werewolf while they are in their human form?" the professor called out.

Once again, Hermione's hand shot into the air, like she was going to take the opportunity to redeem herself. "Sir." she began, not waiting for him to call on her. "There are no known methods to identify a werewolf when they are human. They look just like everyone else."

"Five more points, for speaking out of turn, Miss Granger." Snape called out. He narrowed his eyes at her in warning. "One more outburst, and you will receive detention."

Constance closed her eyes and crossed her fingers under the desk where he couldn't see them, praying to whoever was up there listening that he wouldn't call on her. But either no one was listening to the silent plea, or they thought her being put in uncomfortable situations that made her best friend angry was highly amusing.

"Miss Stryker." Snape said, coming to halt directly in front of her. "Is it possible to identify a werewolf while they are in human form?"

Her eyes slid open and she stared at the surface of the desk. She didn't dare look up. Constance was doing her best to imagine being anywhere other than sitting next to Hermione. She wasn't deliberately ignoring him, but she must have been silent a bit too long for his liking.

"I asked you a **question,** Miss Stryker." he said in a low voice. When Connie finally looked up, Snape had his hands pressed flat on the desk and was leaning forward in an intimidating manner. "If you choose to pretend that you don't know the answer, I **will** put you in detention for the rest of the year."

For as awful as being forced to correct her friend's mistaken answers in front of the whole class was, detention was absolutely unacceptable. Constance gave the professor a small look to indicate she didn't appreciate what he was doing at all, then grit her teeth.

"Yes, sir." she said quietly. "It is possible."

"I can't** hear** you." he prodded. "What is possible, Miss Stryker?"

The girl felt a small prickle. Very faint, but noticeable. Mind reading was an art that was extremely difficult to learn, and only the most powerful of wizards were accomplished at it. Snape was using Legilimency on her. He knew exactly what she was thinking and what she was going to do. The knowledge that he could do that and would dare to use the power on her when he knew that most people her age couldn't fight it off was infuriating. Connie knew how to push him out, but it required a great deal of concentration and effort. When she made an attempt, it felt like she was pushing up against a psychic wall. Snape was profoundly more powerful than her.

"I **said** it is possible to identify a werewolf that is in human form, **sir**." she repeated louder.

One of the Potion Master's brows lifted slightly and he pushed himself back from her desk. "Explain."

Constance took a deep breath. To calm herself so no one could see how pissed she was getting. "The transformation from man to wolf requires a lot of energy, and it is impossible to gather the required amount in a short period of time. In the days leading up to a full moon, the werewolf could possibly be observed as being more hyper and energetic than usual. Likewise, after the full moon, the werewolf would be in a state of exhaustion and lethargy for several... days..."

_Oh God.._. Suddenly, the reason for this lesson and the intensity of Snape's behavior all made sense. These qualities he had her listing off... Professor **Lupin** acted that way. And last night was a full moon. Which would be why he wasn't in class. The poor man was probably laid up somewhere recovering from the trauma of a transformation. How could she not have figured that out? Mihnea hadn't gotten into any trouble with him, but he'd mentioned talking to Lupin on several occasions. That meant he probably knew about it, and Lupin knew about him. Oh, this was **bad. **What the hell did Snape think he was doing?

Since her trail off had been at the end of her statement, it could easily be attributed to Snape's attitude toward her. Hermione didn't seem to notice altogether.

"With all due respect sir, there is** nothing** about this in the textbook." she began, sounding more than a little miffed. "How could anyone be expected to know that without it being covered in the class material?"

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Miss Granger." Snape shot back at her. "I'll see you in detention." As Hermione's mouth fell open in shock, he looked at Constance intently. "Is there anything **else** you want to add to your list, Miss Stryker?"

She had no idea what else he wanted her to say, but Constance was through playing this game. He already knew what she was thinking and how she felt about it. She actually dared to give him a hard look that would definitely be noticed by others.

"No, **sir.** I believe I've said more than enough." she replied. Narrowing her eyes, she directed her thoughts at him, knowing that he would hear them, and gave him the mental equivalent of a hard shove. _Get **out **of my head!_

The professor's expression didn't change. There was only a tiny glimmer in his dark eyes. A spark of surprise. He hadn't expected her to recognize what he was doing or figure out a way to push him out, and was taken aback by it. Snape took a step back, studying her.

"Very well." he said at last, then cleared his throat and addressed the class as a whole. "I want two scrolls of parchment on the characteristics of the werewolf, with a special emphasis on** recognizing** it in both of it's forms. Class dismissed."

When he marched between the rows of desks toward the back of the room, Constance wanted to rip her hair out and scream. How **dare** he? Teaching a lesson that was meant to clue them all in on what Professor Lupin was and then snooping around inside her head to figure out if she put the pieces together? If Lupin was a werewolf, it was nobody's business but his. And he had deliberately pitted her against Hermione just to see what would happen. For the simple enjoyment of watching her grow uncomfortable, and Hermione angry. Snape had no **right**. She'd always had enormous amounts of respect for him as a teacher, but that was low, even for him. The girl squared her shoulders, quickly packed up all of her things, then marched out of the classroom – making sure to pointedly glare at the teacher's desk as she walked out.

* * *

><p>"What was <strong>that<strong>?" Hermione demanded later that night.

Constance didn't have to ask what the girl was upset about. She'd been pissed for most of the day, so it was pretty obvious. "Hermione, please. I don't want to fight about this."

"Fight about what?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. "The fact that you helped Snape humiliate me in front of the whole class, or about him favoring you?"

Harry and Ron were sitting nearby playing wizard's chess at one of the many tables. But the moment Hermione returned from her detention in the dungeons looking upset, they started paying attention to what was going on. Connie cleared her throat.

"Hermione, I wasn't trying to humiliate you..."

"But you** did**." she interrupted before she could finish. "And you** knew** that's what Snape was doing! Honestly, do you think that it's funnythat the man will take your answers, but wont take mine?"

"I do** not **think it's funny!" Connie exclaimed. "Hermione, I **told** you at the beginning of class to keep your mouth shut and not say anything unless he spoke to you first! That's how Snape **works**. It's how he's always been. And what did you do? You threw your arm up in the air and blurted out the answers without him calling on you!"

"Because I knew the answers and he was ignoring me!" Hermione shot back.

"Have you ever considered that he knows that you know the answers and is giving someone else the chance to answer them?"

"Giving **you **the chance to answer them, you mean." she retorted. "And where do you get off blowing holes in everything I said and making me look like an idiot?"

"Hey!" Ron called out, making both of the girls look over at him. "What's your problem, Hermione? You didn't see how Connie was glaring at him the whole time? Snape was acting like a right slimy git and it's not her fault he decided to go picking on you."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Stay out of this, Ronald."

"I will not." he shot back. "You're just sore that you gave the wrong answer and Connie fixed it. It's not like she was rubbing it in your face. He forced her to answer. And you** do** butt in and take over answering questions all the time. Got all upset and huffy when Lupin picked Harry to answer a question over you during the boggart lesson last week, didn't you?"

Harry's eyes widened a hair. He held up his hands at Ron and shook his head. "Oh no. Don't pull me into the middle of this."

Constance was surprised it was Ron who was standing up for her. But she didn't want Hermione to go and get upset at the boys as well. This argument was between the two of them.

"Hermione, Professor Snape is a teacher." she said, forcing the girl to turn her attention back to her. "A **strict **teacher. When he speaks, you listen to him. If you want to be the one to speak up and answer every question that's ever asked in class, that's fine with me. I didn't **want** to say anything. I would have stayed out of it altogether, but he threatened to put me in detention for the rest of the year. The rest of the year, Hermione! What would you have done if he said that to you?"

"Well, I already have detention with him, don't I? That's not even point!" Hermione said. She gave a sniff in Connie's direction, then turned on her heel to walk out. "I'll be working on my essay alone, thank you very much."

Connie just blinked. As much as she hated to admit it, Hermione had earned that detention Snape gave her. He'd given her a warning after the third time she spoke out of turn, and she chose to do it again anyway. But she didn't want to make the girl more upset by pointing that out, or the fact that the Potions Master had been incredibly generous to not toss her into detention the first time she spoke without permission. But that last comment she made about working on the essay on her own... was that supposed to be a threat or something?

"Fine." she said without emotion. "You go do that."

Apparently, she was supposed to get upset about Hermione refusing to work with her, because the girl got even more irritated. She let out this angry huff and stomped back up to the dormitory. Once she was gone, Constance slumped. She knew Hermione would be miffed about the whole thing, but she didn't think she'd get **that **mad...

At the table with Ron, Harry carefully cleared his throat. "Just leave her alone for a while." he suggested. "She'll get over it."

Ron nodded in agreement. "See? That right there is why we say she's mental all the time. Gets upset about the stupidest things in the world..."

"Hermione is not mental, Ron." Connie cut in. She gave him a hard look. "I told you how I feel about that."

"Well, you can feel however you like about it, but she** is**." he went on, then looked across the table at Harry. "Right? You agree, don't you Harry?"

Harry blinked at him, then took to waving his hands again. "No comment." he said. "Last time I said Hermione was mental, she kicked my butt." he pointed at Connie. "**Literally.** I had trouble sitting down for week. I'm not going through that again."

That was actually kind of funny in a way. The corner of Constance's mouth turned slightly upwards. "You learn your lesson, did you?"

"Absolutely." Harry said with a serious nod. He paused and looked at her in understanding. "I do mean it though. She'll get over it eventually. Hermione's not stupid and she knows you didn't do anything wrong. She's just... sensitive."

Well, maybe she was sensitive, but Connie hoped it didn't take too long for her to get over it. With the way Hermione and Ron were going at each other lately, she didn't want to be getting into fights with her as well.

* * *

><p>A.N: I am going to be busy and unable to get to a computer with internet access for the next week. This chapter is going to be the last update I can make until I get home next Monday. Just so everyone is aware. :)<p>

All of you readers continue to be incredibly awesome! Much love to all, and remember to leave a review!


	45. Flibbitigibbits

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"It's strange to see a thestral with so much meat on their bones." Luna commented idly as she fiddled with the mass of strings and ribbons in her lap. "What do you think is causing it?"

Mihnea studied the animal in question, his head cocked to the side in consideration. It **was** incredibly weird to see a thestral that didn't look like a skeleton wrapped up in skin. However, the mare Luna was talking about still had thin limbs. Only the trunk of her body was more filled out than normal. There was only one thing he could think of that would do that. A double check of her scent confirmed his suspicion.

"She's pregnant."

The blonde girl immediately stopped what she was doing and looked up with wide eyes full of wonder. "Oh, that's wonderful! When will she have it, do you think?"

He shrugged. "I imagine she'll foal in the spring."

Luna made a thoughtful sounding hum, then went back to working on whatever it was she was doing.

Ever since that day they first met in Lupin's office, Mihnea had been spending a lot of his free time with the strange girl with dreamy moon-colored eyes. Luna Lovegood had to be the most fascinating person he'd ever encountered. At Hogwarts, anyway. After that first encounter with her, the boy began paying attention to what others said about her in passing. The vast majority of the student body, Ravenclaw house included, called her Looney Lovegood. A 'space cadet' as muggles would say. She was the girl with her head eternally up in the clouds and never on earth where everyone else was. Believing in unusual creatures that couldn't possibly exist and having faith in conspiracy theories that bordered on the outlandish and ridiculous. But the more time Mihnea spent with her, the more he wondered. Yes, there was her odd talk about nargles, moon frogs, crumple-horned snarkacks, and the Minister of Magic baking goblins into pies, but there was something else as well. For all of her strange beliefs, Luna actually made perfect sense most of the time - in a weird sort of way. Like there was an... underlying truth to her statements that she could see, but others couldn't. She often had a disturbing habit of coming out and saying exactly what he was thinking, as if she could tell just by looking at him. It didn't matter how odd, strange, or socially unacceptable it was. When Luna Lovegood spoke, she spoke the truth, for good or for bad and without judgment. Mihnea was beginning to get the impression that everyone thought she was crazy because her mind was too far above them to understand. Maybe that was why he was so interested in her. There were things about the girl that even he didn't fully understand, and the enigma was fascinating to no end.

Despite all of that, Luna did have a few negative qualities that he quickly picked up on. She had the sort of personality that made it easy for people to take advantage of her. The situation with her belongings constantly going missing was a prime example. It was damn near impossible to convince her that it was her fellow housemates, and not nargles, who were responsible. If anyone ever called her names or made fun of her to her face, Luna would simply shake her head and say: "Oh, it's all in good fun." Mihnea knew there was something to be said for not letting things bother you, but there were some things that a person **should** get upset about. Luna never got mad at people, but she never really stood up for herself either. She also had a habit of wandering off by herself without seeming to stop and think about whether she should. Which is precisely why Mihnea found himself going along with her into the Forbidden Forest so often. The girl knew her way around and never got lost, so she'd obviously been doing it on her own for a long time. But with Black having recently broken into the castle, there was no telling where he was hiding out. The idea of him encountering Luna in the woods while she was alone wasn't something he cared to think about. She needed someone with her to make sure she didn't get killed or worse.

After tiring herself out playing with the younger members of the herd of thestrals (the creatures seemed to have a thing for tug of war), the girl had settled herself down on a large stump with her ribbons and strings. Mihnea sat on the ground itself propped up against a nearby tree. He had no idea what she was doing. It looked like she was wrapping the ribbons around some sort of small hoop. Luna was a crafty person and was always making something or other. It could have been a charm against blubbering humdingers or another of her fantastical animals for all he knew.

"What are you working on now?" he asked her.

Luna glanced up. "This?" she asked, holding up her loop covered with multicolored strips of fabric. "I'm trying to teach myself how to make a dreamcatcher. There are some muggles who believe that good dreams get caught in the web, so you'll have them instead of bad ones."

One of Mihnea's brows lifted. "I always heard it was the bad dreams that got caught in the web so they couldn't get to you."

"I suppose either explanation would work." she admitted. "The muggles are wrong, of course. They don't really do anything. But I think they're very pretty to look at." she paused to peer at him curiously. "You know about dreamcatchers?"

"I collect them, actually." he told her. "I've got dozens of them hanging from the ceiling over my bed back home."

Logically, he knew that they didn't do anything to dispel nightmares, but Luna was right. They were nice to look at and he had always found that dreamcatchers had a calming effect on him. Maybe it was psychological, but he liked having them around.

"I see." she said, accepting his answer with a small nod. "Well, once I've finished this one, you can have it if you like."

Mihnea blinked in surprise. "You don't have to do that."

"I know." she replied. "But you actually collect dreamcatchers and I only like the way they look." she studied her creation for a moment. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to. I'm sure the others you have would look better than anything I could make."

She didn't sound self-depreciating. Only making an honest observation. But no one outside of his family had ever offered to give him something before, much less something they personally made. The gesture was... touching.

"No, I'll take it." Mihnea said at last. "I think I'd like it better, knowing you made it yourself. It means more."

"Do you really think so?" Luna asked. At his nod, she gave him a small smile. "Thank you. That's very nice of you to say."

She always acted so pleasantly surprised when someone was nice to her. But then, Mihnea probably did the same thing himself, in his own way. When you didn't have many friends, you couldn't help but be surprised when someone treated you with kindness. Speaking of kindness... Mihnea glanced at the socked feet Luna had stretched out in front of her.

"Don't your feet get cold?"

The girl looked down at her feet. "Sometimes." she replied. "I just put on a few extra pairs of thick socks and it's not so bad."

The boy's eyes narrowed. It might not be bad now, but the weather was starting to get colder. In a couple of weeks, the temperature might be low enough for snow. Once that happened, there would be no way for Luna to go outside for long periods of time without getting frostbite. That was unacceptable. He was going to have to do something about this.

As he was entertaining the idea of raising hell amongst the Ravenclaws until Luna's shoes reappeared, Mihnea noticed that one of the thestrals from the nearby herd was drawing closer to where they were sitting. It was smaller than the others – still a young colt – and was full of life. It trotted around in energetic circles, giving off the impression that it was dancing. There was something so... innocent and magical about it. A young thestral, a dark creature that so many saw as being an evil, horrible omen, playing around like any child would. It pranced happily over to Luna and pressed it's muzzle against the side of her head, begging for attention. A snort of air through it's nostrils blew her hair into her face.

"Well, hello there!" she said with a laugh. She brushed the hair back out of her eyes, then put down her work to pet the colt's nose. "You're very friendly, aren't you?"

When the thestral continued to whinny and blow her hair into her face, Mihnea felt the corners of his mouth turn upward. He couldn't help it. A tiny, waifish looking girl cooing at a black, skeletal creature with bat-like wings that wanted to play with her? The sight was strangely... **adorable**. The animal finally got it's fill of messing with Luna and decided to come over to play with him. Or at least, that's what Mihnea thought at first. When it finally reached him and leaned it's head down, it became clear that the colt was more interested in his messenger bag than him. Since his bottles of blood were in there, he imagined it thought he had brought it a treat. Had he been alone, he wouldn't have minded sharing, but he had Luna to worry about.

"Sorry buddy." he said, grabbing his bag to pull it out of the thestral's reach. "There's nothing in there for you."

The colt lifted it's head to look at him and blew out a loud snort of displeasure. Mihnea imagined that was about as close to something with a horse's face coming to making a pout. It nipped at his hands a few times, trying to get to the bag, but was finally distracted by a sharp whistle from Luna. She had pulled a thick slice of raw meat out of her own pack. Once she saw she had the creature's attention, she tossed it up into the air. The thestral made a small jump and caught it before it hit the ground. The girl smiled in amusement as the creature ate it's treat, then shook her head and glanced over at him.

"They can smell the blood, you know. He probably thought it was for him."

Mihnea immediately froze, feeling an icy chill run up his spine. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Luna's shoulders lifted in a small shrug and she went back to her dreamcatcher. "The bottles of blood you drink." She clarified. "You keep them in your bag, don't you? Thestrals love blood, so he would have smelled it in there."

He was so shocked by her statement that he actually pushed himself away from the tree and scuttled backwards a few inches to stare. There was no possible way Luna could know about that. **None. **He had always been so careful... and... how the **hell **did she figure it out?

Luna gave him an odd look when she noticed his change of expression and backwards crab-crawl. "What's wrong?"

Mihnea continued to gape at her, then carefully cleared his throat. "How... how did you...?"

"How did I know about the blood?" she asked before he could finish. "That's easy. You're half-vampire and vampires have to drink blood. That's very smart, by the way. Putting it in dark colored bottles. It's impossible to tell what it is by looking."

_No __**fucking**__ way. _He swallowed. "How long have you known?"

"I knew when I first saw you." she said simply, then turned to look at him head on, studying the space about two inches around his head. "It's the flibbitigibbits. You have a lot of them."

"The **what?**" he asked, confused.

"The flibbitigibbits." Luna repeated. "No one else knows about them, but I've been working on a theory. I believe they're microscopic animals that attach themselves to the auras of dark creatures. A large amount of them gives the aura a dark halo. My dad says that once I've gotten the theory fleshed out, he'll publish it in his magazine..." she paused, as if realizing she was starting to go off track. "Anyway, you have a lot of them on yours, but your aura still looks somewhat human. You drink out of those dark colored bottles all the time and you make no sound when you walk. But you can go out in the sun and touch the silverware, so I knew you couldn't be a full vampire. I figured you had to be half."

Mihnea blinked at her in shock. She knew exactly what he was just by looking? Because of some kind of... invisible parasites? She sounded like she was talking about something that wasn't any more serious than the weather. How was he supposed to respond to that? What she was saying sounded insane, and yet...

"You can actually **see** auras?" he asked her incredulously.

Auras could be 'sensed' by anyone with enough training, but being able to see them was so rare that most people thought it was just a legend. Since there was no way to prove it, people who said they could do it were thought to be telling stories for the sake of getting attention. Or insane. Mihnea knew it was possible because his father could see auras. However, he'd never encountered anyone else who could do it.

Luna nodded. "I've always been able to see them. My mother could too. That's how my parents met, actually. Everyone thought my mom was crazy when she talked about it, but my dad believed her. She was working on developing a new form of magic that would allow normal people to see them, but one of her experiments went badly and killed her." she pointed toward the thestrals. "That's how I'm able to see them."

He knew Luna would have had to have seen death firsthand to have the ability to see thestrals, but hadn't expected it to be one of her parents. That would be hard on anyone. If they shared the same rare ability, the girl must have been close to her mother.

"I'm sorry." he told her.

Luna shook her head. "It's alright." she said in a reassuring tone. "I still get sad about it sometimes, but I know I'll see her again someday. That makes me feel better."

The girl decided she was done on working on her project for the day and began wrapping up the ribbons so they wouldn't get tangled. Mihnea just watched her, wondering what he was supposed to think about all of this. She knew what he was – from the beginning – and still didn't mind sharing things like that or being alone with him. It was like she didn't care about it at all. The thought was so alien, he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

He cleared his throat again. "If you've known what I am this whole time, why haven't you said anything?"

Luna blinked at him. "Why would I say anything? You've never brought it up, so I thought it wasn't something you wanted people to know." she replied. "It doesn't bother me, by the way. Professor Lupin has a lot of flibbitigibbits around him and he wasn't in class after the full moon. I know what he is. But I think he's a very nice man and a much better teacher than Professor Lockhart was." she looked thoughtful for a moment. "People tend to be afraid of things that are different. It's silly really. If you think about it, everyone is different from everyone else in some way. Some people are just more different than others. I believe it's the differences that makes someone worth knowing, not what's the same."

Mihnea just studied her silently, realizing that she had a point. He found it incredible that she was insightful enough to say such a thing at her age. Luna really did have an amazing mind. She could say something so simple and it happened to be the exact thing he needed to hear. As he was turning everything over in his mind, he noticed that Luna had slipped her project into her bag and had pushed herself up off of the stump. She walked over to where he was sitting on the ground, crouched down in front of him, then leaned forward and put her arms around him in a gentle hug.

For a moment, he felt nothing but pure shock. Very few people outside of his family dared to touch him, and it was never to give him a hug. The simple action was comforting. A kind of confirmation that she truly wasn't scared of him. The next moment brought with it a strange revelation. When his muscles relaxed and he raised his arms to return the friendly embrace, Mihnea realized that he felt no hunger. The thought was startling. Luna carried the scent of a virginal girl and was physically close enough that the smell of the blood running just beneath her skin filled his nostrils. But there was no desire to bite or attack. It was almost like there was some primal part of his mind... something he couldn't fully explain, that recognized a purity in Luna. A light and innocence that shouldn't be touched or tainted. When she finally chose to pull away, Mihnea just sat there and looked at her, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"What was that for?" he asked.

The girl lifted her shoulders in the smallest of shrugs. "It looked like you needed a hug, so I gave you one." she said simply. She rocked back on her heels a bit. "Does being touched bother you?"

If it had been anyone else, it probably would have. But Luna wasn't affecting him the way most people did, and he found that he felt completely comfortable. Mihnea shook his head.

"No, it's fine." He told her. He watched her silently for a moment longer and without having to think about it, he made a decision. "I'm keeping you."

Luna cocked her head to the side curiously. "Keeping me? What do you mean?"

"I'm going to keep you as a pet." he clarified.

The girl's eyes widened slightly, like she found the statement incredibly interesting. "A pet? Really? I've never been a pet before! Is it very difficult? Do I have to do anything special?"

Mihnea shook his head, letting out a small laugh at her enthusiasm. "You don't have to do anything. Just be yourself." he paused thoughtfully. "You know what a human pet is?"

Luna nodded. "I've heard that some vampires keep humans as pets. Most people seem to get very upset about it for some reason. There are some in the Ministry that are trying to make it illegal because they say that keeping a human being as a pet is the same as treating them like an animal or a slave. But..." she pressed a finger to her lips. "I've never really understood why they think that. Most human beings treat their pets better than people, so it can't be all that bad."

And she accepted it, just like that. Blind, trusting faith that Mihnea meant exactly what he said. It was nice, he thought, to be trusted. And if she'd known everything for this long without saying a word, then he knew he could trust her. That was something worth keeping close and protecting. Luna didn't watch out for herself nearly as much as he liked, so if she couldn't do it, he would do it on her behalf.

* * *

><p>Reviews make the world go round, people. You <strong>HAVE<strong> to leave one or the planet will stop spinning - meaning one half of the Earth will be roasted alive, and the other half will freeze to death. You don't want that on your conscious, do you? I didn't think so. :P


	46. The Quiddich Game

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"I can't believe they're going to make you play in** that.**"

George's eyes glanced over toward the window in the common room that Constance was pointing to. "I've played in the rain dozens of times." he told her.

The girl huffed in irritation. "But it's not just rain, is it?" she asked. "Someone is going to get struck by lightning out there!"

As if to emphasize her point, an intimidating, violent crash of thunder erupted from the clouds outside, loud enough to make everyone in the common room jump in surprise. _Yep,_ the girl thought. Someone was going to get struck by lightning during this damn Quiddich match. If George or any of her friends got hurt because of the weather, Connie fully intended to raise hell amongst the staff about it.

"It just adds to the fun of the game." Fred piped up. He grabbed the wooden bat he'd set down on a table so he could pull on his outer Quiddich robe. "It's not like anyone has ever been struck by lightning before..."

George nudged him. "There was that one time."

Fred blinked at him, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, right! Yeah, there was that one time a few years back... How long did Charley stay in the hospital wing after that?"

"A couple of weeks if I remember right." George replied. "And his hair stuck out on end for months."

Constance knew full well that if their older brother had ever been struck by lightning while playing Quiddich, there was no way in hell any of them would have forgotten about it. But with the way those two were, there was no way to tell whether they were making it up or not. It was entirely possible they were exaggerating things just to make everyone nervous. She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed in disapproval. George paused and gave her a reassuring look.

"You worry too much, Connie." he told her. "Me and Fred will be fine. Charley was a Seeker when he played. They're the ones most likely to get hit..."

Harry was standing near Ron and Hermione a few feet away. The moment those words left George's mouth, he snapped to attention.

"Oh,** great**." he said, glancing at the window nervously. "That's just the thing I needed to hear..."

"I'm sure there are spells placed on the pitch to keep the players from getting struck by lightning." Hermione said as she readjusted the large rain slicker she had in her arms. Her tone made it sound like she was trying to reassure herself as much as everyone else. She held out her hand toward Harry. "Let me see your glasses."

Harry had pretty much learned by now not to question Hermione when she asked for something, but Ron hadn't. The ginger headed boy blinked. "What do you need to see his glasses for?"

"So I can enchant them to repel water, of course!" The girl said in a short tone. "How else do you expect him to see well enough to catch the snitch in a rainstorm?"

For as upset as she had been after their little altercation regarding Snape's lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts, it hadn't taken Hermione very long to get over it. In fact, she had hunted Connie down in the library the very next afternoon to question her about whether or not she believed the statements she'd made in class were true. It seemed that Hermione had been doing some research of her own and had come to the conclusion that Lupin was a werewolf. She was checking to see if Connie thought so as well. The girl shouldn't have been surprised she would figure it out. Hermione was excellent about putting things together. Once she had all the pieces of the puzzle firmly put into their places, she finally understood why Constance had been so upset with the Potions Master that day. Hermione had a bit of a soft spot for creatures that weren't treated fairly for reasons beyond their control. She agreed that Snape had been out of line with his actions. Since that conversation, the two girls were back to their normal way of interacting with each other. However, Connie noticed that Hermione didn't seem to be jumping up to tell Harry, Ron, or anyone else about what she'd learned about their favorite professor. She was learning the importance of keeping certain things to herself. It was a good thing it was all over and done with, because sitting in the stands next to her during the game would have been awkward otherwise.

Once Hermione performed a simple spell to keep the drops of rain from sticking to Harry's glasses, they headed downstairs. The players had to go off together for their pep talk before the game, so they all wished them good luck. Constance gave George a strong hug and kiss, along with a firm warning to take care of himself. (If you get hurt out there, I'll kick your arse when it's over.) Everyone else banded together to make the trek to the stands. The weather was worse outside than it had appeared from just looking out the castle windows. There was a heavy wind that was strong enough to knock you off balance if you weren't careful and the temperature had dropped so much in recent days that the rain itself was icy and frigid. The multiple layers of sweaters Connie had on under her raincoat helped to fend off the cold, but it looked like she was going to get drenched no matter what she did about it.

One of the interesting things about the school Quiddich games was that it was one of the few times when students from the different houses were allowed to freely intermingle. Technically, there were separate stands for each house, along with a fifth for the teachers and staff members, but few paid attention to them. Hagrid would often sit on the Gryffindor side with the students, and the members of the two houses who weren't involved in the game itself would pick and choose where they sat depending on who they were supporting. As always though, the Slytherins remained in their little area. Segregating themselves from the rest of the school. Since this match was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, most of them would cheer for the Badgers since they hated them less. However, as everyone was trying to find positions that would give them the best view, Connie caught sight of the one Slytherin who didn't mind flying in the face of tradition.

"Mihnea?" she called out, waving her hands to catch his attention. She had to yell to be heard over the howling wind and masses of people. "What are you doing over here?"

Her cousin picked out her voice from among all the noise and found his way over. It wasn't nearly as much trouble for him as it had been for her, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, because when people saw him, they made sure to move out of the way.

"What, you think I'm going to support **Hufflepuff**?" he asked. He looked offended by the idea. "Potter is the best flier out there and you Gryffindors always get the best seats."

Ron and Hermione exchanged an odd look. "Won't the Slytherins give you hell for being over here?" the boy asked, pointing toward the stands across from them.

Mihnea turned to look at him and quirked a brow. "Do you really think I **care** what the other Slytherins think about me?"

Ron gulped. "Um... no, not really."

Mihnea gave a small grin at his response, then pulled open the front of his black raincoat just enough for them to see what he was wearing underneath. Connie smiled and Hermione's eyes widened a hair at the sight of the bright crimson sweater and yellow scarf. Mihnea Bassarab, the scariest Slytherin there had ever been, was wearing Gryffindor colors. Keeping them hidden under a dark coat, yes, but he was wearing them all the same. That was definitely a strong show of support from him. Ginny just stared as he pulled his raincoat closed before he got completely drenched, then opened her mouth as if to make a comment about it. But something caught her attention before she could say anything.

"Luna?" the redheaded girl questioned. Her face lit up in recognition. "I thought you'd be sitting with the Ravenclaws this game?"

Constance blinked in confusion, then saw that Ginny was speaking to a short, blonde girl standing just behind Mihnea. She couldn't be sure if she had just walked up, or if she had been there the whole time. Her cousin was big enough to make the girl look like a tiny porcelain doll in comparison. She had this... strange expression on her face. Like her mind was off thinking about something else, but something had her surprised. Of course, that could have been the way she always looked, seeing how light her eyebrows were. She gave Ginny a dreamy looking smile.

"Hello, Ginny." she greeted. "I would have sat with my house, but I put most of them off for some reason. And they're all afraid of him." she nodded toward Mihnea. "Have you seen my new galoshes, by the way?" she put one of her feet up on the step in front of her to show off a rubber boot that was painted with stripes and polka dots every color of the rainbow. "He gave them to me for my birthday."

"Late birthday." Mihnea corrected. "I missed it by a few days."

Luna stopped to peer at him with her head cocked to the side. "Hmm... Yes, you're right. It was a late birthday. But since I never told you what it was, you couldn't have known."

The others who were listening to the conversation all acted like they weren't quite sure what they were supposed to do. Ginny studied the boot the girl was showing off, then cleared her throat.

"They're... um... very nice, Luna."

They** were** interesting looking, Constance had to admit. They were the sort of shoes that only a certain type of person could pull off and not look stupid. Luna seemed to be just weird enough to manage it. But personally, she was more interested in the fact that Mihnea had a girl hanging around him and he was buying her presents. Was there something going on he hadn't told her about? She studied him intently.

"Mihnea...?"

He blinked, then registered why her tone was questioning. "Oh, right. Luna." he said, taking the girl's arm to turn her to face Connie. "This is my cousin, Constance Stryker, and those are her friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." He pointed everyone out. "Connie, this is Luna Lovegood."

Luna smiled brightly and stuck out her hand. "Hello. It's very nice to meet you. Mihnea talks about you a lot." she paused and studied the space around Connie's head. The girl got the impression she was being carefully examined, which was weird given she wasn't looking directly at her. "I like you. You have very pretty colors around you." She then turned to glance at Ron and Hermione. Luna didn't seem to find them nearly as interesting. "I know who Ron is. You're Ginny's brother. And Hermione Granger is the one everyone calls the know-it-all." When she saw Hermione bristle at the term, she shook her head in understanding. "You shouldn't let it bother you, you know. People call me 'Loony Lovegood' all the time."

It was easy to see why, Constance thought. The girl seemed friendly enough, but she did give off the impression that she was... 'touched' in the head. Mihnea noticed that everyone was starting to get uncomfortable and put his arm around the girl's shoulders to pull her off.

"Luna," he said to her gently. "The game is about to start. We need to find a good place to sit."

The blonde girl hummed thoughtfully and nodded in agreement. "Yes, I suppose we should. I don't think your other friends want to talk to me right now anyway." She gave them all a small smile and wave. "It was nice to meet you."

Everyone just stared as the two of them pushed their way through the mass of students to find seats near one of the corners where they could see better.

"Well, I never!" Hermione commented with a frown. "What sort of person talks that way?"

She was probably referring to Luna's nonchalant mention of her being known as a 'know-it-all'. Ginny shook her head and touched Hermione's shoulder.

"She didn't mean anything by it." she said. "Luna is... interesting. She's always like that."

Connie blinked. "You know her?"

The redheaded girl nodded. "We're in Transfiguration together." she told them. "She's wicked smart and brilliant with spells. I think she's very nice. Weird... but nice."

_Hmm..._ Constance thought. The girl would have to be smart if she were in Ravenclaw house. Was Luna the reason why she hadn't been seeing Mihnea around as often as she used to? She would have to ask him about it later. The players for both teams were in the air, and Madam Hooch was preparing to signal the start of the game. The bludgers and the golden snitch were released, and the quaffle tossed high up into the air.

The game itself proved to be one of the most intense Constance had witnessed thus far. Maybe Fred had a point about the storm adding to the fun. Along with making plays and avoiding bludgers, the players also had to navigate through the violent wind and avoid losing control in the gusts that whirled around higher up. Even with the spell Hermione placed on Harry's glasses, the girl had no idea how he would be able to see a tiny, wet ball flying around in this mess. He and the Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory, were perched high above the others, slowly making circles around the field as they searched for it. As Fred made a scarily close pass to the stands to beat off a bludger that was chasing down Alicia Spinnet, Harry seemed to catch sight of something and sped high up into the clouds. Diggory followed, but he was probably using Harry as a means to locate the snitch rather than actually seeing it himself. That was the method all of the other teams' Seekers had taken to once Harry began playing. Bright streaks of crimson and yellow disappeared directly into the thunderhead looming over the field. Everyone cheered loudly, imagining that the game was going to come to a close soon. The two Seekers were out of sight for about five minutes before Cedric came swooping back down, chasing down the tiny metal object that only he was close enough to see. Harry, however, remained up in the clouds.

"What the devil is he doing?" Ron asked, holding a hand up to his eyes to block out the rain as he searched the skies. "Diggory's going to get the snitch if he doesn't get a move on!"

"It has to be the clouds." Ginny suggested. "It can't be easy to see up ther..."

The girl's face went pale as a bright flash of lightning illuminated the sky, making it as bright as daylight for a split second. Hermione's eyes went wide and her hands flew to her mouth in shock, while Ron and Constance both froze and stared at the sight above them in horror.

There were **dementors** up there. In that moment where the lightning provided perfect visibility, they could see Harry on his broomstick high above them. Surrounding him on all sides were dozens of black figures with cloaks billowing in the wind. A few seconds after they saw them, another flash of lightning pierced through the clouds. It allowed them to see the boy slip sideways off his broomstick and plummet toward the ground. Most of the students in the crowd hadn't seen the dementors and were still cheering for the teams. But the moment Harry starting falling, everything came to a screeching halt. Every student and teacher in the stands flew up to their feet, screaming and causing a commotion at the sight. The Gryffindor players all immediately dropped what they were doing on the pitch and flew up, trying to catch him before he hit the ground. But Harry was traveling too fast for them to reach in time. Fred actually got close enough for his hand to brush against the back of his robe, but the boy fell beyond his reach. Harry would die if someone didn't do something! But when he was about thirty feet from the ground, it looked like the boy's free-fall began to slow down. Across the field, Dumbledore was on his feet with his arm outstretched, pointed toward Harry. He must have been casting a spell to stop it. But while Harry's descent was greatly reduced in speed, it didn't stop completely. The boy hit the ground with a thud and rolled across the grass.

It was complete pandemonium. Students pushed against each other, trying to get out of the stands and onto the field so they could see what happened. Constance likened it to attempting to shove her way through a herd of elephants. When she, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny finally got to where Harry was laying, his eyes were closed, his face a ghastly shade of white, and he wasn't moving. Dumbledore and McGonagall pushed their way through the mass of students, running over to see about him. The older woman crouched down at his side and took hold of his wrist. Upon her declaration that he was alive, Dumbledore ordered all the students to stand back out of the way so the boy could be carried to the hospital wing. He then pointed his wand up at the sky. A bright, silvery jet of light erupted from the tip and flew up to banish the dementors. The patronus looked like some type of bird, but it was moving too fast for Connie to tell what kind.

"Professor!" Hermione called out, rushing toward McGonagall before she got too far ahead of them. "Can we go with him?"

The woman turned on her heel and looked at her, a worried expression written across her features. "Not now, Miss Granger." she said. "Give Madam Pomfrey time to work, then we'll see."

So they would be left waiting until someone came back to tell them whether Harry would be alright or not. It was not a pleasant way to spend one's time.

* * *

><p>The members of the Gryffindor Quiddich team were understandably concerned about Harry. All of them waited in a small area just outside the doors of the hospital wing. Connie, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were allowed to stay there because they were close friends. None of them even bothered to change into fresh clothes. They all stood there with sopping wet hair and streams of water pouring off of them. However, Madam Pomfrey gave them all very firm instructions to stay outside until she was finished with her examination. There was no telling what sort of injuries the boy might have, or how long it would take to repair them. The only thing they had to hold on to was the knowledge that Harry was still breathing.<p>

While Oliver Wood ranted and raved about the dementors being a bloody menace that damn near killed his Seeker, the twins and the four that didn't play Quiddich stood a bit away, leaned up against the wall and looking amongst each other.

"He'll be alright, wont he?" Ginny questioned, keeping a worried eye on the door. "I mean, he fell a **long **way..."

"Madam Pomfrey can fix anything." Fred said resolutely. "He'll be right as rain in a day or two. You'll see."

Ron was staring at the hospital doors as well, waiting for the smallest sign that they were about to be opened. "I'd almost rather think about Black being nearby without the dementors here." he said in a low voice. "He's gotten past them twice already and now they come onto the grounds and attack Harry? What's the bloody point of them being here?"

"It makes the Ministry feel that they're doing something." Hermione said with a shake of her head. "I don't like how they use them. Acting like they're guard dogs when they **know** they're some of the worst dark creatures out there..."

Constance found herself in full agreement. She was starting to think that the only reason dementors allowed themselves to be used by the Ministry of Magic was because they provided them with quick and easy prey. Criminals locked in a prison wouldn't be able to fight them. She clasped her hands firmly together in front of her to keep from wringing them. She glanced sideways at George.

"Did you feel them up there?" she asked.

He shook his head, making his wet hair spill into his eyes. It was a much darker, more vibrant shade of red than when it was dry. "No. Not a thing." he replied, his expression showing that he didn't like it at all.

Fred cleared his throat. "We thought we would have been able to." he said. "The dementors sort of freeze up your insides, don't they? But Harry was so far above us, I guess they were out of range."

George nodded. "With the rain as cold as it was, we might not have known what it was anyway." he added. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but stopped when the door was pushed open.

Everyone pushed themselves away from walls and stepped forward as Madam Pomfrey came out to talk to them. The woman clasped her hands in front of her and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Potter has a concussion and a few bruised ribs." she reported. "He'll stay here for the rest of the weekend and he should be able to attend classes by Tuesday." She pushed the door open wider to allow them entrance. "You can see him now, but he's still out at the moment so keep it down. And be prepared. I imagine he'll have a whopper of a headache when he wakes up."

Connie and the others all breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to hear that there was nothing more serious than that. Considering how far he had fallen, even several broken bones would have been good news.

There was really no telling how long Harry would remain unconscious, so most of the other members of the team only stuck around long enough to make sure he was indeed alright. Harry looked awful, but there was a bit more color to his cheeks now that he was in a bed and not laying out in the rain. After about thirty minutes, there was only the six of them left waiting. Each of them was determined to stay until the boy woke up. However, when Ginny let out a loud sneeze, her brothers all unanimously decreed that she should go upstairs and change into dry clothes before she took sick. For all of their sibling rivalry and teasing, they did look out for each other. The younger girl didn't look happy about leaving, but relented when Hermione assured her she'd let her know the second Harry woke up. Once Ginny was gone, they all took up seats around the bed and went back to their quiet vigil. Constance had her arm propped up on it's elbow with her head resting her hand, but straightened when George nudged her in the ribs.

"I think it's about time to start working on that thing, don't you?" he whispered in a low voice.

Constance just blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

"You know, the** thing**." George prodded, giving her a meaningful look. "That we talked about on the train?"

"I have no idea what you're..." the girl paused, her eyes widening when she realized what he was talking about. "**Oh**! Right. **That **thing."

He was talking about his request for her to teach him sorcery. She found herself in agreement with him. Now that the dementors had shown that they were willing to cross into areas of the school they weren't supposed to be, it would be best for him to start learning. However, it was going to be complicated. She shot a tiny glance toward the others that were there, noting that they weren't really paying attention to their silent conversation, then leaned over to whisper in his ear so they wouldn't be able to hear.

"We can talk about this later." she told him. "But I think you're right."

* * *

><p>Review! :)<p> 


	47. Sorcery Lessons

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Harry woke up about three hours after they were let into the hospital wing to see him. He winced at the smallest bit of light and had a pounding headache, but otherwise he seemed himself. In fact, the thing he was most worried about was who had won the game. Cedric Diggory wound up catching the snitch while everyone else was distracted by his fall, which put Hufflepuff in the lead. Connie personally thought that it wasn't a fair way to win, but the score stood firm. Harry was disappointed by the news, but Hermione not so gently reminded him that he was lucky to be alive.

Unfortunately for him, there was more bad news to be had. After Harry was brought to the hospital wing, Mihnea and Luna had decided to stay out in the rain to search for his broomstick. No one else had cared about the object at the time, but her cousin noticed which direction it had flown off in and had followed. The pair of them showed up in the hospital wing still drenched from the storm, with Luna carrying a mass of what looked like twisted branches and broken twigs in her arms.

"After what happened, I figured you'd want this back." Mihnea said upon seeing that Harry was awake. He gave him a sympathetic frown. "The wind knocked your broom into the Whomping Willow."

Harry stared at the broken pieces of his precious broomstick in dismay. It looked like he felt that a part of himself had been shattered. Hermione, meanwhile, blinked at their story in disbelief.

"How on earth did you manage to find all the pieces in the rain?" she questioned, sounding like she found it suspicious.

Constance found herself wondering the exact same thing. Her cousin was brilliant about being able to track things down by scent, but the wind and rain would surely have thrown it off.

Luna glanced at Mihnea and cleared her throat. "Oh, it was very clever actually. Rhabdomancy can help you find anything you're looking for..."

"Rhabdomancy?" Hermione interrupted. She sniffed as if she found the idea silly. "You mean **dowsing**? Everyone knows that's a bunch of rubbish, just like Divination."

Mihnea bristled and gave the girl a sharp look. "Rhabdomancy happens to be one of my** favorite** classes, thank you." he said in a short tone. "And Divination isn't complete rubbish. You don't have to get snippy and rip something apart just because you don't understand how it works."

The girl looked offended by the statement, but closed her mouth and said nothing more. Harry looked back and forth between her and Mihnea, sensing the growing tension, and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for bringing it back." he told him, genuinely meaning it. "I guess..." he paused and glanced over at Fred and George. "Does the team have any spare broomsticks I could use to play?"

Fred thought about it. "Madam Hooch has that broom cupboard of old Cleansweeps for the first year flying lessons." he reported. "You could use one of those. It won't be nearly as fast though..."

Harry didn't look the least bit pleased about that. His Nimbus 2000 was one of the fastest on the pitch, and using a slower broom might affect his playing. But there was really nothing else that could be done until he was able to acquire a new one.

Next to Mihnea, the tiny blonde girl with protuberant eyes studied Harry's downtrodden expression. "You should take good care of yourself for the next few days." she announced. "Loser's Lurgy is a terrible ailment that can sneak up on you without warning. It will send you into a deep depression if you aren't careful."

Everyone blinked at her in confusion. What the devil was she talking about?

"Loser's... Lurgy?" Ron questioned.

The girl looked like she was about to explain, but Mihnea let out a loud cough to distract her. "Luna, I think we should leave and give Potter some time to recover."

She paused thoughtfully, then nodded. "Oh, yes, of course." she agreed. "Rest is very important in fending off the Lurgy. Do try to get some sleep."

With that, they both said their farewells and turned to leave. Connie, however, had something she really needed to talk to Mihnea about while she knew where he was. She excused herself from the bewildered group around Harry's bedside and ran over before her cousin and his companion got through the door. Mihnea noticed her approach and halted mid-step, telling Luna to go ahead without him.

"Yes?" he asked once she reached him.

Constance shot a curious glance outside where Luna was skipping down the hall and around a corner. "Mihnea... who is she?"

"Who, Luna?" he asked. "She's a friend." when he noticed one of her brows arch in interest, he gave her a look. "**Just** a friend. She's my pet."

Connie stared at him in disbelief. The entire concept of keeping a human being as a 'pet' was distinctly vampiric in nature – and it was something that usually only very old and powerful ones did.

"A pet is a **hell** of a lot more than 'just a friend', isn't it?" she asked pointedly.

"Well yeah, but I can't exactly go around explaining that to normal people, can I?" he said.

"Mihnea!" she whispered, not daring to speak any louder than she had to. "You... you can't do that! I mean... how long have you known her?"

Her cousin shrugged. "Since a couple of weeks after school started."

"That's way too fast!"

Mihnea arched a brow. "I only saw Pixie for a few minutes before I decided to keep her."

Constance stared at him. He wasn't actually going to compare a person to an animal, was he?

"Mihnea, Pixie is a **cat**." she said firmly. One of her fingers stretched out toward the hall where Luna had disappeared. "That girl is human."

"So?" he questioned. "It doesn't matter whether it's a human or animal involved. It means the same thing."

"**So?**" Connie repeated, incredulous. "Human beings don't think about things the same way vampires do! You can't **do** that to a person without them understanding what it means!"

He glanced back toward the bed where the others had gone back to talking amongst themselves, then dropped his voice. "She understands and she agreed to it." he told her. "She knows, Connie. About me."

The girl's eyes widened a hair. "She **knows**?" she repeated, shocked. "You actually came out and **told** someone?"

Her cousin shook his head. "No, I didn't tell her anything. Luna figured it out for herself." He looked like he found it just as strange as she did. "I just found out about it a few days ago." he paused and looked back at the others in the room again. "This really isn't the sort of conversation we need to be having with people around, so can we drop it now?"

He was right, of course. The subject wasn't one that was safe to talk about where others might hear. But... this was an incredibly odd situation. Constance had never imagined that Mihnea would do something like this. Not that it was bad... it was just...** weird**. Vampires formed completely different relationships than humans did. They were almost primal and instinctual – with seemingly little conscious thought put into them – and had levels running so deep that human beings had difficulty understanding what they meant. A vampire keeping a human as a pet was the equivalent of a human keeping an animal as one – which was part of the reason why only the older ones did it. They had usually developed enough respect for humans to actually take care of them, rather than just using them. But it was still strange to think of a **person** being in that position... Maybe she just felt off balance about it because she had just met Luna and didn't know anything about her. After all, if Seras had remained human rather than becoming Alucard's fledgling, she probably would have been considered his pet. She was going to have to at least talk to this girl and learn more about the sort of person she was.

"Fine." she said, relenting. "I'll drop it. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about anyway." she saw his curious look and cleared her throat. "I need your help with something."

One of Mihnea's brows went up. "What is it?"

Constance took a deep breath and explained the situation at hand. Mihnea listened intently and when she was finished, he blew out a long stream of air. There was a long moment where he didn't say anything at all, choosing instead to stare thoughtfully at the door behind her.

"You realize this is completely bat-shit insane, right?" he questioned, finally looking back at her.

"I know." the girl admitted. "But if we're going to do this, then we're going to do it **right**. No cutting corners." she quirked a brow almost challengingly. "Since when do you care about something being 'bat-shit insane' anyway?"

"I don't." Mihnea replied. "I was just pointing it out." He glanced back toward the others for a final time, turning everything over in his mind, then sighed. "Okay, fine." he told her. "I'm in."

* * *

><p>Because sorcery was such a complex and advanced form of magic, there were very specific stages one had to go through in order to learn it. George Weasley had told Constance he wanted to learn, so he was going to have to go through the same stages the two of them had. Why Connie had agreed to teach him when they had no books available was beyond Mihnea. They kept everything at home to prevent snoopy house-mates finding something they didn't need to see. Writing home and asking their parents to send some by owl wasn't going to happen. Getting them to go along with the idea of a couple of teenagers teaching sorcery to an untrained novice without adult supervision would be an uphill battle. And God forbid if they relented and then something happened to Archimedes on the flight back. There would be an extremely powerful, potentially dangerous, and priceless volume of knowledge damaged, destroyed, or lost forever. Mihnea's mother was more than a little over-protective of her books, so it was highly unlikely she would let the tomes out of her sight.<p>

That meant that he and Constance were going to have to give lessons from memory. It was doable, seeing as how everything had been ingrained into their psyches since they were small. If one of them forgot to mention something important, the other would be there to make sure it was covered. The problem was that when you had been working with a philosophical concept so much that it became an integral part of your mental process, you didn't have to consciously think about it. Intricate explanations of every tiny little thing weren't necessary. It just... was the way it was. Mihnea and Constance had been introduced to sorcery as blank slates – 'untainted' by any other magical theory. Weasley, on the other hand, was going to have to completely reprogram his brain in order for this to work.

Since everything had to be a closely guarded secret, Mihnea thought it was best for them to meet up in the Astronomy Tower late at night. Students never went up there outside of class, and while the Bloody Baron sometimes liked to haunt the corridor leading up to it, he never entered the observation deck itself. Since the tower lay abandoned most of the time, the teachers and Filch rarely bothered to check it unless they knew for a fact that someone was sneaking up there. The room was open, but spelled to protect against the elements and provided a clear view of the night sky. That would be useful later on.

Mihnea had been perched on one of the window ledges, waiting for about half an hour when he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes turned away from the stars and toward the entrance, where Connie and George were quietly stepping inside.

"You're late." he commented.

"That's my fault." Connie said as they walked over. "Hermione has been staying up late working on that legal defense for Buckbeak's hearing. I had to wait for her to fall asleep."

One of the other problems they would have to deal with, Mihnea thought. He didn't share a room with anyone, so it wasn't a big deal for him to sneak out. But the two of them would have to slip out from under the noses of their house-mates. Gryffindors were famous for not leaving something alone if they found it interesting. Connie turned on her heel to ward the doors so no one could hear or come inside, while George studied him.

"I didn't expect to see you up here." he said. "Did she rope you into this?"

Mihnea shrugged. "If you guys are going to do this the right way, then you'll need me later on. I figured I might as well get involved now."

When Weasley cocked his head to the side curiously, Mihnea quirked a brow. He looked over to where his cousin was finishing up with her wards.

"You haven't explained anything to him yet?"

Connie dropped her hand and turned back around. "I haven't had much of a chance to." she admitted. "I figured we could just do everything in one go. At least then you'll know what I've told him."

_Ah._ He thought. That would make things simpler in the long run. Mihnea leapt down from the window ledge and the three of them took up seats on the floor nearest to the window that provided the most moonlight. Connie had brought a small lantern with her to provide accessory light to see by. Once all three of them were ready, Mihnea cleared his throat and looked at George intently.

"You do realize that what we're about to do is illegal and if we get caught, all of us will be expelled and sent to Azkaban?" he asked him. "This isn't a game or something you do on a whim."

Weasley studied him, his expression a rare show of solemness. "Contrary to popular belief, I **can** be serious about something." he said. "And if you two can do this sorcery stuff with no trouble, then I don't see why I can't."

Constance shot Mihnea a meaningful look, then cleared her throat. "That's why I wanted us to have this little meeting before we started, actually." she announced, readjusting her legs more comfortably. "George, sorcery is completely different from witchcraft and Mihnea and I have been working with it since we were little. It's going to be harder for you to learn, because you're already a wizard."

George blinked at her. "How do you mean?"

"She means that if you want to learn sorcery, you're going to have to forget everything you've ever been taught about magic." Mihnea spoke up. "All the rules you've spent your whole life learning don't apply here. Witchcraft is simple, non-living energy that anyone with magical ability can use. Sorcery is **alive**. It has a mind of it's own and can think for itself. If you approach it the same way you would with your magic, you'll fail every time and wind up either insane or dead."

That little tidbit of information was the primary reason why the magical world was so intimidated by it. If you didn't treat sorcery as a living thing, it would get offended and turn on you. Most witches and wizards couldn't wrap their brains around the idea, so those that attempted it wound up paying the price for their ignorance. Weasley shot a look at Constance that was almost accusing.

"You told me that people dying from doing this stuff was an exaggeration." he said.

"No, what I said was that people dying at the smallest mistake was an exaggeration." she corrected. "Every time there's been a death due to performing sorcery, it's been a person who didn't go through all the steps to learn it right." She paused, thinking about the best way to explain. "Witchcraft is easy to do once you've got it figured out. The energy is the same for everyone and the strength of a spell is only determined by the willpower and focus of the person casting it. If three different people wanted to levitate something, for example, all of them would use the same spell. Sorcery isn't like that. It's very complex and everything is based upon the sorcerer's unique way of interacting with the magic. You can't just point your wand, say a spell, and expect it to work for you. You have to learn how to communicate with it first. The energy has to... get used to you, and you have to get used to it. Once you've done that, then you can learn how to actually use it. It's the people who don't take the time to do that first who wind up doing something stupid that gets them killed."

George just stared at her for a long time. Mihnea noted that he looked confused, but wasn't making fun of anything. That was a good sign, at least. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Okay..." he said, drawing out the word. "So... no using magic until you've figured out how to... 'talk' to it?"

"That's it in a nutshell, yes." Connie replied with a nod.

"And just how are you supposed to **do** that?"

"You have to work your way through levels." Mihnea piped up, drawing Weasley's attention to him. "As a novice, you'll have to learn basic theory first. Once you understand the most important elements you need, you'll move on to initiate level. You go through a ritual of initiation which introduces you to the magic as a student, then you go through lessons in how to recognize living magical energy, how to communicate with it, how to draw from various sources and send it back, grounding and centering yourself... basically all the practical ways to apply the theory you've learned. Once you've got all of that down,** then **you move on to actually using the magic to do things." He paused to point at his cousin. "Connie can teach you all the theory herself, but once you get to initiate level, you'll have to learn the basic practical stuff from me until we're sure you know what you're doing."

George studied him. "Why do I have to learn the practical stuff from you?" he questioned, then winced, apparently realized how it sounded. "Not that there's a problem with that, but that's going to mean more sneaking around than if I learned it from Connie, since we're in different houses."

Constance shook her head. "I'm a girl, George. I can't teach you anything in the initiate level."

His brows furrowed. "What does your being a girl have to do with anything?"

Mihnea cleared his throat. "This is one of those things about sorcery that's different from witchcraft." he explained. "Living magic interacts with males and females in different ways. You have to learn all the practical basics from someone of the same gender." he gave Weasley a serious look. "The first few times you try to draw up living magic, it wont be easy to control. It's very easy for things to get out of hand. If that happens, Constance wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop it no matter how much she wanted to. Until you've learned how to control it, everything you do will be considered wild magic with a masculine energy signature. Her feminine magic would throw the energy off balance and send it spiraling out of control. But we're both guys, so anything you draw up would recognize me as being able to use the same type of energy as you and it wont be as likely to go haywire. If it does, I'll be able to calm things down and get it back under control because I know how to manipulate it."

Constance bobbed her head in agreement. "When we were first starting out, I had to go through my initiate level with Aunt Syn, and Mihnea did his with my dad. After we got all the basics figured out, we could switch back and forth between them without any problems."

Weasley took in all the information and sat back thoughtfully. It was obvious that he hadn't expected it to be quite this involved. Finally, after a long moment of silence, he looked between the pair of them.

"How long does this 'initiate level' take?" he asked.

Mihnea gave Connie a look, signaling that she could take over answering. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

"It depends on the person." she finally settled on saying. "I got through mine and was able to start actually using sorcery in little over a week." she stopped to shoot a jealous glare at Mihnea. "And Mr. Grand-Master Overachiever over there got through his in three days."

He couldn't help it. Connie always got so upset about him taking to magic faster than she did. Mihnea stuck his tongue out at her.

"Don't hate on me because I'm better than you." he teased.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "I still think you only managed that because of who your mother is."

"Think what you want." he said, sticking his nose high into the air. "I'm still better."

Connie glared at him in warning. "Shut up before I hurt you, Mihnea." she hissed at him. She gave a small kick at his legs, then turned back to George, who looked like he found their little spat highly amusing. "Anyway, all we know about it is people who have been raised in our family – not people who used witchcraft first. And we both had intense daily lessons..."

Jesus, she was making it sound like it would take forever for George to manage it. Mihnea figured it might take him a bit longer than it had for the two of them, but not more than a couple of months at the longest. It would depend on how much he wanted it.

"That really doesn't mean much, though." he said, cutting her off. He jerked a thumb toward her. "Connie's grandmother didn't use magic all that much, and Uncle Ed had to learn everything from our Great-Uncle Jonas. He got only a couple of lessons a week and he got through with his initiate level in about three weeks. It all depends on how much effort you put into it. It's not** easy** by any stretch of the imagination, but it doesn't take forever." he paused to work out a few mental calculations. "If Connie runs through all the basic theory with you and we get a solid schedule worked out, we could aim for doing energy pulls by Christmas holidays."

Weasley seemed to find that acceptable. Now that he knew all of the risks and work involved, he could actually make an informed decision about whether or not to proceed with these lessons. Surprisingly enough, he didn't take very long to think it over. Mihnea should have expected that from a someone like him. The rest of their little meeting was spent discussing the best times to hold these lessons. George could get his theory work with Constance done in their common room after everyone had gone to bed for the night – but with Mihnea, they'd have to meet up at the Astronomy Tower. Upon coming up with something that was workable for the two boys, they all dispersed and headed back to their respective dormitories.

* * *

><p>For the next couple of weeks, George and Constance spent every night and small snatches of time during the day going over the essentials he had to learn. There were the different categories and alignments of magical energy and how they behaved. The use of symbolism as a type of language their magic understood better than words. The idea of rituals and ceremonies being a way to convey the specific meaning of what you wanted. It was a lot to absorb in such a short period of time. However, when George Weasley was interested in something, he devoted all of his attention to it. Connie found herself hit with tons of questions – some of which weren't very easy to come up with answers for.<p>

"You know, all of this stuff about rituals and magic being alive make it sound like sorcery is a religion to you guys." he commented one night after everyone had gone to bed.

Constance had to take a moment to carefully consider her response. She'd never heard anyone suggest such a thing before, but it was easy to see how someone could jump to that conclusion.

"You have to be careful about thinking things like that, George." she told him in a lowered voice. "The magic we work with isn't a God, and sorcery isn't meant to be a religion. It's a tool. Or... I suppose you could call it a 'life philosophy' in a way. We recognize that living magic is a very powerful, natural force that is greater and bigger than us. It deserves to be respected, so that's what we do."

Giving such a response felt like a cop-out, but that was the best she could come up with. All of his more probing questions went like that. Why didn't they have to use wands with their magic? She told him that it was because a wand is just a tool to amplify non-living magical energy to make it useable. Because living magic was naturally more powerful, sorcery bypasses that and works directly with the energy itself. Then he asked if ritual was so important, how was she able to cast a protective circle on the train without using one? Constance explained that some things – like certain types of protective circles – could be performed with an internalized, mental ritual. Everything had to be done exactly the same way, only it was kept within the mind rather than physically performing it. Most higher level rituals required the caster to actually perform the ceremony, however there were a few exceptions. When living magic was used often enough, it became intimately familiar with the sorcerer and how they worked, allowing certain aspects of rituals to be performed mentally. Connie figured that once he went through his initiation, George would understand everything better due to his having experienced it for himself. But the time leading up to that point was somewhat frustrating.

But finally,** finally**, the girl felt that he had absorbed all of the most important pieces of information. George had a word with Mihnea after one of their DADA classes and the two boys set up a time for the ceremony. Their best bet would be to do it on a weekend. The ritual of initiation was very individual. Depending on the strength of the magic's reaction, it could take anywhere from a few minutes, to a few hours. Since there was no way to tell how long it would last, they figured that performing the ceremony on Saturday night would give them plenty of leeway. The students weren't as rowdy and likely to be out and about as they were on Friday evenings. If something happened that kept them out later than expected, they wouldn't have to worry about classes being held the next day. George was both excited and nervous about it. This would be his first big step into the realm of sorcery. Constance was glad to see that he was looking forward to it, but she was still put off by the fact that she couldn't be there to witness it. She would have to learn about everything second-hand.

When the scheduled night arrived, the two of them waited for everyone in their dorms to fall asleep before heading down to the common room. Constance had already changed into her pajamas since she wouldn't be going out with him.

"You have any shining words of wisdom for me?" George asked as he glanced toward the portrait hole exit.

The girl shook her head. "Just be yourself." she told him. "Follow Mihnea's instructions. And I should go ahead and tell you that it's going to feel **really** weird."

There was no other way to describe the sensations that ran through you during this ceremony. It was different for everyone, and the closest explanation anyone could come up with didn't make much sense to someone who hadn't been through it.

"Got it." George said, then turned his gaze away from the door to look at her. "Are you going to wait up for me?"

Connie nodded. "I'll probably go back up to the dorm just in case Hermione wakes up during the night, but otherwise, I imagine I'll be awake." she told him. "Mihnea told me he'd send Pixie so I'd know when you were finished."

"That weird cat of his is the damnedest thing I've ever seen." the boy commented with a shake of his head. He paused then and gave her a questioning look. "Would you do something for me?"

Bewildered, Constance inclined her head. "Of course. What is it?"

George reached to draw his wand from his back pocket. "Mihnea said I couldn't have my wand during this ritual thing." he told her. "I don't feel right about leaving it in a drawer upstairs, so would you keep it with you until I get back?"

Connie blinked in surprise. A wizard's wand was like a part of them. They didn't hand it over to someone else without a damn good reason for it, and even then it was hard to do because they were so protective of it. She swallowed and took the carved length of wood from him.

"I'll make sure nothing happens to it." sh e promised.

George nodded, then leaned down to kiss her. It was smooth and sweet – and it lasted longer than Connie expected it to. Not that she was complaining, but he had somewhere to be. She put her hands up to his shoulders to push him back.

"You need to go." she told him. "You're going to make yourself late, and Mihnea will get pissed if he finds out why."

He gave her those damn puppy dog eyes and pouted at her. "Who says we have to tell him why I'm late?" he asked. "It's none of his business."

Connie rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed. "For God's sake George, I'll be here when you get back." she told him with a huff. She gave him a push toward the door. "Now **go**."

He laughed at the firmness of her tone, but finally turned and went out. Now there was nothing for her to do except wait. She tucked George's wand into one of the pockets of her robe and headed back upstairs.

Constance dozed lightly in bed for a couple of hours before she felt something leap up next to her. Her eyes slid open to find Pixie pawing at her leg. Immediately, she pushed herself upright and glanced down toward the floor to search for her slippers. As she worked her feet inside of them, she cautiously looked around at the other beds in the room. All of the other girls were still asleep, and there was no sign they would be waking up any time soon. However, she did notice that Crookshanks had lifted his head from Hermione's arm and was looking at her intently. Almost like he was trying to figure out what she was doing. His intelligent feline eyes then turned toward Pixie, and he let out a soft, questioning meow. Pixie, who was still sitting on Connie's bed, looked over at him and made an equally quiet noise, though it didn't sound particularly happy. The girl swore up and down that Crookshanks had just asked Pixie what she was doing there, and Mihnea's cat told him to mind his own business. Once she got her slippers on her feet, Connie grabbed her robe and pulled it on as she tip toed out.

When she got down to the common room, Mihnea and George were just coming in. Constance halted mid-step at the sight of them. Mihnea had one of the boy's arms draped over his shoulders, and George looked unsteady on his feet – keeping his eyes to the ground as if to make sure he was stepping on something solid. What on earth was going on? She ran over to give them a hand.

"What happened?" she demanded.

Mihnea shifted his weight a bit when she slid George's free arm over her shoulder to help him. "We got a stronger response than I expected." he told her.

In-between them, George raised his head so she was able to see his face. His eyes were hazy and he had that weird grin people get when their drunk.

"That was so** awesome**." he said in a slightly slurred voice. "I was playing hide and go seek with something I couldn't see! Can I do that again?"

"Oh no." Mihnea said firmly. "We're not doing anything else until you get over this." he glanced at Connie over the top of George's head. "He's power high. It should wear off in a few hours."

A power high was something that could happen to anyone in the early learning stages of sorcery. Living magic was incredibly powerful, and the feel of it could send you into an altered state – just like being high or drunk. Connie had warned George that it was a possibility, but she hadn't expected it to be quite this strong. Working together, she and Mihnea got George over to one of the nearby couches so he could lay down.

"So... is this a good thing, or a bad thing?" she asked her cousin.

"I'd say it's a good thing." Mihnea replied. He looked like he was taken aback by something. "You should have seen it, Connie. I thought it might take a while for the magic to show itself since he's so new to all of this, but we got a reaction the second we started."

The girl's brows furrowed. "What took you so long, then?"

He extended a finger toward the boy laying on the couch. "He was **playing** with it." he told her. "He's not lying about the hide and go seek. We'd get this crest of energy and whenever he got close to touching it, it would move around to make him chase after it. I've never seen magic act so playful before. It took me a while to talk both of them down so we could finish."

_Huh. _Connie thought. That was an interesting reaction to get. But considering George's playful personality, it sort of made since for the magic to respond to him that way. As long as it hadn't been bad, it wasn't something to worry about. On the couch, George was running his fingers along the pattern in the fabric like it was something he'd never noticed before and found incredibly interesting. Connie cleared her throat.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

George stopped poking at the couch and pushed himself upright. "Yeah." he said. "I feel great!" he paused then and studied her intently. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are? You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." He blinked for a second, like he was trying to clear the fuzziness out of his head, then turned his gaze onto Mihnea. "And you... if you were a girl, you'd be gorgeous too. But it's a good thing you're not a girl because you are waaaayyy too tall."

Yep, he was definitely as high as a kite. Connie snorted and had to put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing too hard at what had just come out of his mouth. Mihnea just stared at him, looking uncomfortable.

"Okay..." he said, drawing the word out. He shook his head. "I think I'm going to leave before this gets more awkward than it already is." he glanced sideways at her. "Do you think you can handle him without my help?"

The girl shook herself out of her amusement and nodded. "Everyone's asleep, so we'll be fine as long as we stay down here." she told him.

She figured it would be unlikely for anyone to wake up and come downstairs at 2am. They would have a couple of hours at least to get him back to normal. Mihnea inclined his head in understanding, then scooped Pixie up into his arms and went out the way he'd come in. Connie settled herself down next to George on the couch and reached to pour him a glass of water from the pitcher set out on the table.

"How does he get past the knight?" he asked, referring to the portrait that had taken the Fat Lady's place as the guard of Gryffindor tower.

Constance shrugged. "Mihnea goes wherever he wants to go." she said simply. She passed the cup to him. "Drink this."

George's obediently took the cup and took small sips of the water. Keeping him hydrated was really the only thing to be done for his state. It took a good thirty minutes or so, but eventually he started acting more like himself.

"Merlin's beard, this almost feels like that time me and Fred stole firewhiskey from our Aunt Muriel's liquor cabinet." he said, rubbing his temples.

The girl had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. That sounded like something he and his brother would do.

"You look like it too." she told him. A thought suddenly popped into her head. It was a truly horrible thing to do, but just **had **to do it. "You do realize that you told my cousin he would be gorgeous if he was a girl, right?"

George went very still and gave her a look of absolute horror. "I did **not**."

"Yep. You did."

He just kept staring at her with his eyes wide with shock. Constance couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. He had just done something that he would never live down. If Mihnea didn't remind him of it, she would.

* * *

><p>A.N: Okie dokie peoples, I have a few announcements for you! Please attend carefully. ~clears throat~<p>

1. I hate this chapter. I had a hell of a time writing it and I got tired of starting over every five minutes, so I'm putting it out there as is. If you have any desire whatsoever to flame me, please feel free to do so. I'll probably agree with you.

2. I have worked my way through my surplus of chapters and finally caught up to myself. Therefore, until I get another surplus built up, there might be longer stretches of time between updates than usual. Do not panic if week goes by without any new stuff put up. I swear upon my immortal soul that I am working on new material for you guys.

3. The next chapter will have Hellsing characters in it. Meaning that Hogwarts' winter break is upon us, and we're going to be spending some time in Hellsing land for a while. And trust me, it's going to be interesting for all involved. ~dun dun DUN~

So, without further adieu, I will repeat my usual demand for reviews – whether they be good or bad. Cheers!


	48. Surprising Discoveries

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Mihnea was anxious. Not for any bad reason, but more out of expectation. While he usually enjoyed Lupin's 'mini-lectures' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, this time he kept checking his watch, hoping that maybe if he glared at it long enough, time would start moving faster.

Then, finally, class was over and he waited just outside the door for the two people he was actually looking forward to seeing. When the Weasley twins stepped out of the classroom, they gave a cursory look around to make sure no other students were lingering nearby. Once they were certain no one was paying attention, Fred pulled a small box out of his pack of books.

"As promised." he announced, handing the box over. "One set of extendable ears to assist you in all of your spying endeavors."

Mihnea slid the lid of the box open a hair to glance inside. Sure enough, inside lay two very realistic looking human ears.

"The left is the one you leave behind." George instructed once the box was closed again. "The right one you keep with you."

"You pinch the earlobe to turn it off and on." Fred added.

"And when you're ready to get the left ear back from wherever you've hidden it, you just point your wand and cast a disillusionment charm." they said in unison.

Mihnea quirked a brow. "You cast an** invisibility** spell to make it visible?"

"Everything is backwards." George told him. "If someone thinks you're listening in on them, the first thing they'd do is cast a spell to reveal hidden objects."

Fred nodded in agreement. "So we designed these to respond to the spell in reverse. They're immune to summoning charms too, so no one can find them by accident."

Mihnea looked back and forth between the two of them. It was impressive they had put that much thought into them. That would give him one less thing to worry about. He put the box inside his messenger bag for safekeeping.

"Thanks." he told them.

"No problem." they replied together. Fred then cleared his throat. "By the way, if you decide to tell anyone about having these things, don't forget to mention where they came from. We are running a business, after all."

He might have rolled his eyes at the request, but he did have a point. Credit went where credit was due. He assured them that if anyone found out, he would make sure they knew the ears were a Weasley product. Their next set of classes weren't held together, so they separated to go off in opposite directions. Before Mihnea got too far, he thought of something. As the twins were just about to round a corner, Mihnea grabbed George by the elbow to pull him back. Fred immediately noticed that his brother wasn't right next to him and halted mid-step to see what was going on.

"Keep walking, Weasley." Mihnea told him, using his last name to emphasize he didn't want him around. "This doesn't concern you."

George apparently sensed what this might be about and waved Fred off. "No worries, Freddie. I'll catch up in a minute."

Fred gave them both a weird look. Mihnea thought for a moment he was going to ask what they were up to, but instead he just shrugged. "Whatever." he said and went on his way.

The moment his brother was gone, George turned toward Mihnea, his eyes questioning. "What's up?" he asked.

Mihnea held up a hand to silence him. His eyes remained fixed on the corner Fred had disappeared around. He knew full well that he hadn't gone anywhere and was attempting to listen in on whatever they were going to talk about. Honestly, he should know better than that by now.

"I'm not stupid, Weasley." he called out. "I know you're there."

They both heard Fred curse under his breath. "How the hell do you** do **that?" he asked, poking his head back around with astonishment written all over his face.

"I have good hearing." Mihnea said shortly. "Now **leave**."

Fred seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get what he wanted, so he finally left them alone. Mihnea waited until he could no longer hear the boy's footsteps, then turned his attention to George.

"We need to work out a new schedule." he told him. "Final exams are in two weeks and I'm thinking if we meet up every night this week, you can be through and ready to move up to the more serious stuff."

There was no need to explain what he was talking about. George already knew. His eyes widened a hair. "You sure?"

Mihnea inclined his head. "You're moving faster than I thought you would. We'll definitely be finished before break and when we get back, Connie and I can work on the meatier stuff with you."

He had thought it would take Weasley longer to get used to the feel of working with a new type of magic. So far, he'd only had to step in and calm things down once. George had gotten frustrated during his first attempt at drawing energy into himself from an external source and declared that the whole thing felt stupid. An enormous fireball appeared out of nowhere and preceded to chase him around the Astronomy tower's observation deck until he was cornered in a window. Mihnea got the impression it was teaching him a lesson in manners. Since it wasn't truly 'out of control' he just stood back out of the way and didn't involved until Weasley's shoes caught fire. George had been given multiple warnings in advance not to say or do anything their magic would take offense to, so he probably deserved it. However, Constance would have thrown a hissy fit if he stood by and let her boyfriend get injured. The magic settled down and stopped threatening to burn him alive once Mihnea got George to apologize to it. Everything turned out fine in the end. But after seeing for himself what living magic was capable of doing when it got pissed off, Weasley made damn sure not to make any further thoughtless comments.

George looked pleasantly surprised by his declaration. After a moment of thinking it over, he cleared his throat. "Okay." he said. "I can do the every night thing, but we'll have to push the time back." he lowered his voice a hair. "Fred's starting to notice that I'm sneaking out more often, and I can't keep using going out with Connie as an excuse. He's eventually going to figure out that she's not leaving the dorm."

_Damn._ That was going to throw a wrench into things. But pushing the time back by a couple of hours wasn't awful. They'd just have to watch the time carefully so they'd be be able to get a few hours of sleep before having to get up for classes.

"Is 2am good for you?" he asked.

George cocked his head sideways. "I can do that." he replied. "Are we going to start tonight, then?"

"Might as well." Mihnea said. "There's no time like the present."

"Sounds good to me." George said. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder and turned to leave. "See you then."

And with that, he jogged off to catch up with his brother. The fourth years were starting to arrive for their DADA class, so he figured he should get a move on to get to Transfiguration. He liked Professor McGonagall, but she did have a habit of giving people hell when they showed up late. As he was about to walk off, a voice from the doorway behind him made him pause.

"I hope you're not getting up to something I need to be concerned about." Lupin said in a conversational tone.

Mihnea halted and turned on his heel to face him. The professor had his shoulder propped up against the door facing with his hands shoved down into his pockets. His expression was curious, but not disapproving.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." he said, not meaning a word of it.

"Ah ha." the man replied, one of his brows slowly traveling upward. "Just like a Slytherin." he lowered his head to look at Mihnea down his nose. "I see you're getting along with people better than you were at the beginning of the year."

The boy considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "You were the one who said I should loosen up and trust people more." he reminded him. "Maybe I'm giving it a try."

Lupin smiled approvingly. "So I've noticed." he commented. "It's not so bad, now is it?"

Mihnea shook his head. "Not yet."

That got a good natured chuckle out of him. Lupin made a 'shooing' motion with his hands. "Off with you. And remember, you have an essay due at the end of the week."

"Yes, sir." Mihnea replied, then was finally free to leave.

More sorcery lessons with George to plan out – which were going much better than he expected – and no Potions until tomorrow. He was going to have to find a way into Snape's office to plant one of his lovely new toys.

* * *

><p>The waiting was annoying as hell.<p>

During the next Potions class, Mihnea used collecting ingredients from the storeroom as an excuse to steal away into the Potion Master's office to plant one of the extendable ears. Connie helped him out by writing out a list of supplies that they already had so that Snape wouldn't get suspicious of him being away for too long. For the two weeks afterward, the boy took every spare opportunity to listen in on what was going on in that room. For the most part, it was only mundane things. Ordinary scraps of conversation one would expect to hear in a school setting. Snape muttering under his breath about how stupid most of his students were as he graded papers, him speaking to Flitwick, McGonagall, or Sprout about members of their houses who had gotten in trouble with him and needed to be disciplined, and a whole host of other things Mihnea had no interest in hearing about. But finally, in the middle of exam week, he got a hit. Dumbledore had gone down to Snape's office to have a private conversation with him, and the contents of their discussion were **extremely** interesting. So interesting, in fact, that Mihnea had to restrain himself from running straight up to Gryffindor tower to drag Connie out to tell her about it.

"You can't be serious!" his cousin hissed at him.

He managed to catch her before she entered the Great Hall for supper that night. They holed up in an empty storeroom just outside of where all the other students were eating their evening meal. It was only after placing more wards than were necessary that he revealed what he had learned.

"I'm completely serious." Mihnea told her solemnly. "Snape specifically said he believed Lupin helped Sirius Black get into the castle on Halloween because the two of them were friends when they were in school. He's been dropping all those hints about him being a werewolf because he thinks he's a security risk. Dumbledore wont allow him to tell anyone outright, so he's trying to get one of the students to figure it out so they'll take care of outing him for him."

Connie stared at him in shock. "But... there's no way Lupin could be helping Black!" she exclaimed. "I mean... you should hear how Harry talks about him. He's been having talks with him just like he is with you. Harry said he agreed to teach him how to perform the patronus charm when we get back from Christmas break because of how the dementors are so focused on him! He wouldn't do that if he** wanted** Black to get him, would he?"

Mihnea held up a hand to get her to quiet down. Constance had an awful habit of rambling when she was excited about something. "I don't believe it either." he assured her. "If Lupin was doing something like that, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to tell. Dishonest people just...** feel** different. I think Snape doesn't like him for some reason and is jumping to conclusions because he happens to be a werewolf who knew Black well."

His cousin grew quiet, thinking to herself. "All of it makes sense now." she said quietly. "When Snape gave us that lesson on werewolves, he was so intent on people learning how to recognize them in human form. I had to push him out of my head because he kept using Legilimency on me to see if I had figured it out..."

Mihnea went very still. "Snape used Legilimency on you in** class?**" he demanded. "That's illegal."

Connie rolled her eyes. "Mihnea, you and I do things that are illegal all the time. I was able to push him out before he saw anything important. I don't want to raise a fuss about it because it would just make the other teachers suspicious."

She was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. His head of house had attempted the same thing with him more than once, but Mihnea was immune to it. Snape had no business forcing himself inside of his cousin's head. It was the mental equivalent of rape in his opinion, which is why he didn't read other people's minds unless he absolutely had to. If he had a choice in the matter, he'd go off and have a serious conversation with the man and probably wind up kicking his ass. That would cause all sorts of trouble for both of them.

"I think Snape knows you well enough by now to figure out that you know, even if he didn't see anything." he said. "We just have to hope no one else puts it together."

The girl suddenly got this weird expression on her face – like there was something she knew that she didn't want to say. He noticed and looked at her intently.

"What have you not told me, Connie?"

Constance carefully cleared her throat. "Hermione." she said. "She knows about Lupin. She did some extra research for that essay Snape assigned and came to talk to me about it." when she saw the horrified look on Mihnea's face, she waved her hands at him. "We don't have to worry about her telling. She thinks the magical world treats werwolves like garbage and she hates it. She hasn't even said a word to Harry or Ron about it. She only told me because she figured I knew about him too."

Mihnea blew out a long stream of air. He didn't like anything about the situation. Too many variables and loose ends for his liking. But if Connie believed that Granger wasn't going to cause a problem, he'd have to trust her judgment. He glanced toward the door of the room.

"Luna knows too." he told her.

Connie blinked at him. "How in the hell does Luna know?" she asked. "Snape didn't give a werewolf lesson to the second years! Ginny would have said something about it."

"She knows about him the same way she knew about me, I expect." he replied with a shrug. "She can look at people and tell. And I know for a fact that she doesn't give a damn what we are, so I'm not worried about her."

Silence fell across the room. Both of them were thinking about this new information and what it meant for them. Finally, Constance was the one to speak first.

"So... what do we do about this?" she asked.

"Honestly, I don't think there's much to do." Mihnea said. "I think Lupin helping Black get to Potter is about as likely as hell freezing over. From the way he sounded, Dumbledore doesn't believe it either. He wouldn't have hired Lupin in the first place if he thought he would be a risk to anyone. But..." he paused to run his hand through his hair in irritation. "I think this is something to keep an eye on. Just in case something else comes up, you know?"

"I agree." she replied. "I guess I'll start paying closer attention to what Harry says about his visits with Lupin. He would be more likely to say something to him than anyone else."

Mihnea found himself in agreement with her. For the time being, they would wait this out, keep their ears to the ground, and see what happened.

* * *

><p>The remainder of finals week went by without Mihnea hearing anything else from his stent of spying on Snape. On the last day of class, he had to sneak back into the Professor's office to get the ear back. He didn't want to leave it there over the holidays. Connie didn't blame him. For as many steps as the twins had taken to make sure the extendable ears wouldn't be discovered by anyone other than the owner, there was always the possibility of something going wrong. In this situation, being paranoid was helpful in being prepared.<p>

With all the tests out of the way, everyone was looking forward to leaving school for winter break. Constance felt a bit weird about not going straight home, but the feeling was overshadowed by the knowledge that she would be with friends.

"Have you heard whether Percy is coming or not?" she asked Ron and the twins after they'd all brought their trunks down to the common room.

The three boys all shared a look of mutual dislike. "He's staying here." George said.

Fred frowned deeply. "The stupid prat says he doesn't want to deal with dad's 'bad attitude' about his summer job."

Oh Lord, so Percy and Mr. Weasley were still at odds with each other about that. Maybe it was for the best that they remain apart for a while. God knows it would be awkward staying at the Burrow while a family drama was going on. Harry came down a few minutes later, followed by Hermione and Ginny – who had finally finished packing up a few last minute things. The trunks filled with their belongings were left for the house elves to collect, and the group of them headed downstairs to join the mass of students leaving for the train.

The ride was a long one, and Connie found herself napping for most of it. Studying for all the exams, working on multiple essays, plus staying up waiting for George to return from his lessons with Mihnea meant she hadn't been getting much sleep for the past several weeks. All the Weasleys made it sound like their parents allowed them a 'recovery day' where they were allowed to sleep in as long as they liked. She fully intended to take advantage of that once they got to the Burrow.

When they arrived at King's Cross, everyone collected their things from the baggage car and went through the portal that took them back into muggle society. Lots of people were traveling back and forth for the holidays, so the station was packed. As they pushed their way through the mass of people to an open spot near a set of benches, Connie caught sight of a familiar face. A man with long, braided hair and a cowboy hat always stuck out in a crowd.

"Hey, hang on a second." she told the others, then headed over to him. "Pip? What are you doing here?"

The captain's eyes lit up when he saw her, and she had to let go of her trunk and set down Archimedes' cage so she could hug him in greeting.

" 'ey! I'm on pickup duty." he told her, pulling away. "Jackson and Rebecca are bozh out for zhe 'olidays, and your mom and Alucard are gone to zhat conference zhing een Barcelona. Zomeone 'ad to come, zo 'ere I am!" he peered around. "Where'z Mihnea?"

That stupid vampire hunting conference the Spanish government requested Hellsing to attend, she thought. With her mom and Alucard out of the country until the 23rd, her dad would be in charge of the house. He'd have to stay on alert in case something happened. Constance glanced back toward the portal where students were still exiting in groups of threes and fours.

"I guess he hasn't made it out yet."

"Merde, zhat boy alwayz takes 'is zweet time, doesn't 'e?" Pip said under his breath. He then blinked, as if suddenly remembering something, and began patting at the pockets of his coat. "While I'm zhinking about eet, you guyz 'ave new phones now." he pulled a cellphone out of one of his pockets and passed it to her. "Eet waz zupposed to be for Christmas, but your mom zhought you zhould get eet now zince you'll be gone and all. We would 'ave zent zhem to zhat school of yours, but Syn didn't trust zhe owls."

In his cage, Archimedes flapped his wings and hooted loudly in displeasure. Bernadette immediately stepped back and waved his hands at the bird.

"Calm down zhere!" he told him. "Zhe **ozher** owls, not you!"

Archimedes settled down at the comment, though his bright yellow eyes remained narrowed, as if in warning. He never liked hearing anyone talk about him not being good at his job. Connie shook her head in bemusement and took the phone. It was one of those new, fancy ones that did just about anything a person could think of. She'd have to play with it to learn all the features. A few feet away, all of her friends were still standing where she'd left them wearing curious looks on their faces. Pip shot a questioning look of his own in their direction.

"Your friends?" he asked.

Connie nodded. Since everyone was right there, she figured it would be weird for her not to introduce them. Pip knew the rules, so it would be fine. She waved them over.

"Everyone, this is Pip Bernadette." she told them, gesturing to the captain. "He's Mihnea's brother-in-law."

Realization dawned across everyone's features, and Ron went wide eyed. "Whoa. Wait a minute! Bassarab has a **sister**?" he questioned, sounding like he couldn't imagine such a thing.

Bernadette looked like he found the boy's outburst amusing. "I couldn't be a 'brozher-in-law' if zhere wasn't a zister involved, could I?"

Ginny blinked at the sound of his voice. "You're French?" she asked.

"Oui, mademoiselle." Pip replied, giving a small bow like he was showing off. "Born and bred."

That definitely caught their attention. Connie recalled having mentioned that Mihnea's brother-in-law was French to Hermione once, but she didn't think she had told anyone else. She moved to introduce each of them to Pip so he'd know who they were, but he waved her off before she could begin.

"Non, non, I've got zhis." he said, then pointed his finger at each of them in turn. " 'arry, 'ermione, Ron, Ginny, and..." he paused and gave each of the twins a good look. "Fred and George." he finished, correctly identifying which was which.

Fred and George both blinked in astonishment. "No way!" they exclaimed. "How'd you do that?"

Bernadette grinned at having impressed them. "My younger brozhers were identical twinz." he told them. "You 'ave a zet een zhe family and you learn 'ow to tell zhe difference. Connie 'ere showed all of uz pictures." he paused thoughtfully. "Zo who iz zhe evil one?"

"Excuse me?" they questioned.

"Zhere's alwayz a good twin and an evil twin." he explained. "Zo who iz who?"

Apparently there wasn't a saying about that in the magical world because none of the wizards in the group seemed to recognize it. Fred tapped his chin with a finger.

"I've never heard that one before." he commented. "I guess I'd be the evil twin, then. What do you say, Georgie?"

George didn't have to take nearly as long to think about it as his brother had. "Yep." he replied, nodding in agreement. "You're definitely more evil than me."

"Hey!" Fred exclaimed in a mock show of offense. "You didn't have to agree **that **fast!"

"You said it first." George pointed out. "And you did ask."

Pip looked back and forth between the pair of them in amusement, then leaned down and nudged Connie lightly in the side. "Zee? Now eef you were wizh zhe evil one, we'd all 'ave more to worry about."

Constance felt her cheeks turn red in mortification. The others didn't know enough about Pip to understand why, but he was famous for being perverted. She knew exactly what he meant about 'having more to worry about'.

"Shut up!" she cried out, giving him a good shove.

Bernadette just laughed at her like she'd given him the perfect ammunition to shoot herself with. "Uh oh. You know zhat protesting too much iz a zign of guilt, oui?" he teased.

The girl's mouth fell open and she shot a deadly glare in his direction. "I swear to God, Pip Bernadette, I **will** kill you."

"At least wait until I get the car keys." Mihnea's voice rang out of nowhere, drawing everyone's attention. He had just come through the portal with his trunk, Pixie leading the way on her leash. When Pip noticed him, he straightened and waved at him.

"Get a move on, boy!" he called to him, though he didn't sound upset. "What took you zo long?"

"Sorry." her cousin said once he finally reached them. "Pixie got loose on the train and I had to hunt her down." he shot a reproachful look down at his cat. "What's the deal with the phones?" he asked, turning his gaze back onto Pip. "Mine's not working..."

In response, Bernadette drew a cell phone identical to the one he'd given Connie out of his pocket and gave him the same story about them having new ones now. Mihnea took the device and studied it with thinly veiled interest. He had been dropping hints about wanting something like it for a while. Hermione looked interested in the device as well, and it seemed for a moment she forgot who it was she was talking to.

"Is that one of those that has an mp3 player too?" she asked, her eyes alight. "I've always wanted one of those! My parents haven't bothered to get one since I wouldn't be able to use it at school..."

Ron blinked in confusion. "M.P. What?"

"Mp3 player." Mihnea announced, not looking away from his new plaything. "It's a muggle device that plays music."

"Blimey..." Ron said, shooting a glance at Connie's phone. "You mean there's a **radio** in that fellytone thing too?"

Pip blinked. "Fellytone...?" he said in a low voice, shooting a sideways look at her cousin.

Constance had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes and sigh. Things always got complicated when the muggle and magical worlds got mixed up. Thankfully, Harry knew enough about it to commence explaining the difference between a digital music player and a radio. Meanwhile, Hermione caught sight of her parents waiting for her near one of the exits.

"Oh!" she said, realizing how much time had gone by. "It's time for me to go." she took hold of the handle of her trunk. "I'll see all of you at school then?"

Everyone nodded in confirmation and the girl ran off, calling back a final promise to take plenty of pictures of her skiing trip for them to look at later. It looked like Mr. Weasley had just arrived at the station as well, meaning it was time for them to go their separate ways. Connie confirmed the plan to meet her dad at Diagon Alley on the 24th, then handed Archimedes' cage off to Mihnea. Since the Weasleys had their own owl - and she had a new phone - there was no good reason to force him to endure the stress of multiple trips. Mihnea and Pip bid her and the others good-bye and wished them a good visit. It was only when the two of them began walking off in the opposite direction that Harry, Constance, and all the Weasleys gathered up their things and headed off to meet their dad.

In the back of her mind, the girl couldn't help but wonder what they would think if they knew they had just been talking to one of Hellsing's vampires.

* * *

><p>In an old, weather beaten house far from London, a pale, blonde haired man watched the sunset from one of the many windows. This was the last place he ever expected to wind up in. Creaking floorboards and dust everywhere... even the mish-mash of equipment set up for his use was a farce of a laboratory. Everything was antiquated. Out of date and stolen from the dumpsters of any hospital or lab that had updated their equipment. He was so much <strong>better<strong> than this.

Perhaps it was the isolation that got to him. Even when he worked on projects and experiments alone in the past, there were always others around. Doctors and scientists who could appreciate the value of his work. In this new environment, stitched together from the cast offs of others, he had only one companion. A companion which, while sharing many of the same ideals and goals as him, wasn't the sort of person he liked being around for long periods of time. He knew that his associate felt similarly about him. They were drawn together not out of like, but out of a mutual need for each other's talents and connections.

"This is the best you could do?" A snide, raspy sounding voice questioned from the massive chair behind him. "This is **pathetic**."

The man turned to give the curled up, feeble looking creature that had spoken a look of reproach. "Ja, it ist the best I can do under these... **conditions**." he replied with a noticeable bite to his tone. "You asked for a body und I made one for you."

The creature, which had once been a man but couldn't be called one any longer, narrowed it's slitted red eyes at him. "I would think, with all your preaching about the wonders of your..." it paused and grimaced as if what was about to leave it's mouth was a curse. "**Muggle** science, that I would have more than this... wretched... twisted... **abomination **of a thing you've saddled me with."

There was only so much taunting of his work the man was willing to listen to, and the thing speaking was quickly approaching his limit. "That 'muggle science' you hate so much ist the only reason you live now." he spat. "I vould show some respect for it."

The creature didn't like being spoken to in such a manner, but there was nothing it could do about it. After all, it needed him. It would whither up and die if not for the care and attention he provided. Those red eyes studied him in the fading light, then it's deplorable excuse for a face changed expressions. It no longer looked hateful, but considering. Carefully pouring over every detail of their situation and how best to handle it. The man knew this well. He had been around this thing long enough to understand what was going through it's mind.

"It is no matter." it said at last. "This body is only temporary. I have learned a way to create a new, perfect form for myself."

Though he strongly disliked being around his companion's brash and condescending demeanor, there were those few and far between moments when he heard something that pricked his interest. Was there indeed a way to make a physical body out of nothing that was so well formed it could be called perfect? If there was, he wanted to play a part in it's creation, no matter what the cost might be. His fallen Major would approve of that.

"Vhat do you need?"

The creature opened it's mouth to speak but for a moment, only a wet sounding wheeze of air came out. It coughed and then regained it's composure.

"The boy." it said. "His blood is the key."

The man considered this. "This ist easily done." he said. "I can have him killed vith no trouble."

"**NO**!" it rasped. "I need him alive! Only his living blood will fuel the spell. Once I have my new form, I intend to kill him myself. No one else may have the honor."

Had circumstances been different, the man might have thought the idea of so hopelessly lusting after the murder of a child pathetic. However, he was now fully immersed in a world were magic reigned. The rules were different here, and a young boy could be a potentially lethal enemy.

"I need a location." he told it. "Mein comrades must be told vhere to find him."

"There are many places." the creature replied. "The girl... the one who wrote to me in my diary... she told me where he may go. We must move now while there is a chance he is away from the castle. Until I am made whole, there will be no way to touch him there."

"Give me the locations." the man told him. "If ve don't find the boy himself, ve have ways of finding out vhere he ist."

* * *

><p>A.N: I realize that I basically just skipped over all the sorcery stuff with George. This is due to my being lazy, me not wanting to drag this on forever (seeing as how I've written nearly 50 chapters, and we're only in year three O_o), and partly because it will come up later on in more vivid detail.<p>

Please take this attempt at explanation as me being human and possibly having lied about this not going on for hundreds of chapters. At the rate this is going, I'm definitely going to have A LOT more than 100.

~thinks to self~ Oh God, I think I created a monster. What have I gotten myself into? ~runs away screaming~

Okay, so... reviews? Please and thank you? ~hides under a couch~


	49. Advance Warning

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

There were few things in the world that Mihnea found truly intimidating. His father was one of them. Alucard could simply give him a look and he would immediately stop whatever he happened to be doing at the time. But his father wasn't home. He wouldn't be getting back until just before Connie did.

One of the other things he found intimidating was his mother when she was in a tizzy about something. The moment he walked through the doors of the manor, it became clear that she knew everything that he'd been up to for the last few weeks. The only explanation he could come up with for her knowledge was the possibility of Dumbledore catching wind of his sorcery lessons with George. But strangely enough, that wasn't what she was upset about. She said she had a sneaking suspicion it would happen eventually, now that the boy knew about them. So instead of getting a lecture about the dangerous nature of what he'd been doing with Connie's boyfriend, he got a completely different sort of talking to.

"A **pet**, Mihnea?" she asked him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "You just up and decide to keep a twelve year old girl as a **pet**?"

Though she was physically smaller than him, there was something about her mannerisms and attitude that made her seem much bigger than she really was. Mihnea took a deep breath to calm his nerves and cleared his throat.

"Actually, she turned thirteen in November..." he began, but was quickly cut off.

Syn blew a stray lock of blood red hair of of her eyes and fixed him with a hard look. "I don't give a damn how old she is." she told him. "Mihnea, I love you with all of my heart and soul, but there are some things you have got to be **careful** about. A vampire choosing to keep a human as a pet is serious business. You can't just run around claiming that any girl you take a fancy to belongs to you. There are responsibilities and..."

"Mom, will you please calm down!" he said, raising his voice a bit louder than he meant to. His mother closed her mouth and folded her arms over her chest. That was her silent cue that she was going to be quiet for a while and listen to what he had to say. "Look, I know how serious it is." he told her. "And Luna isn't some random girl I've decided to pay attention to because she's hot or something. It's not like that."

"What is it like then?" she asked him.

Mihnea blew out a long stream of air and ran one of his hands through his hair. This wasn't the easiest thing to explain to anyone – much less his own mother.

"It's hard to explain." he began. "All I know is that Luna is different. Not just from other girls, but she's different than **everyone**. She... sees things other people can't see. When we first met, she took one look at me and knew exactly what I was. She's the first person I've ever met who has never been intimidated or scared of me. And..." he paused mid-sentence, trying to find the right combination of words to express what he thought of her. "She is... light. When Luna's around, I don't ever feel a desire to hurt her, kiss her, date her, or anything else. I just... want to protect her."

Syn's posture didn't change, but a new sort of awareness dawned in her eyes. After a long moment of quietly studying him, her expression began to soften. Mihnea couldn't help but feel relieved by the sight. Maybe if she calmed down a little, she wouldn't turn this into something it wasn't. His decision to keep Luna could probably be considered sudden, but it certainly wasn't made on a whim. The woman in front of him sighed deeply and pushed her mass of hair back out of her face with both hands. One of her arms gestured to the couch situated against one wall of her office.

"Baby, sit down." she told him.

He did as instructed and watched silently as she took a seat next to him, turning to face him head on. She took one of his hands and pulled it into her lap.

"I want you to understand something." she began. "I don't want you to think I believe that you having a human pet is a bad thing. If you wanted to keep a whole menagerie of humans, that's your business and I wouldn't care..."

Oh Jesus, she was going into awkward territory. She didn't really think he would do that, did she? "Mom..." he interrupted, his tone whining.

Syn held up a finger. "I'm not finished. I think it's **wonderful** that you've found someone you can be open with and who accepts you. Everyone needs someone like that. But... this is one of those vampiric ideas that most people have trouble accepting. It takes a very special sort of human to understand what it means. And most girls, especially young girls, tend to romanticize things. Now, maybe this girl hasn't reached that point yet, and maybe she'll never think of it that way. The point is that it could happen. If this... relationship you have with her isn't going to be a romantic one, you have a responsibility to make damn sure she understands that now. If she winds up falling in love with you later on, both of you will be miserable because she'll be yearning for something you cant give her and you'll have to deal with it because you're stuck with her." she paused and gave his hand a firm squeeze. "You're nearly grown, and I trust you to make your own decisions. I just don't want to see you or someone you care about get hurt because you didn't think things through before jumping into something. Make sense?"

Mihnea slowly nodded. For as uncomfortable and awkward as the conversation began, he could appreciate that she wasn't going to stand in his way. His mother just wanted to make sure he was doing things the right way. The idea of thinking of Luna in a romantic way was so incredibly weird he couldn't even begin to imagine it. But... she had a point. Maybe that was something he needed to talk to her about so both of them understood the 'rules of engagement', so to speak.

"I'll make sure she knows." he told her.

"Good." Syn said, giving him a small approving smile. She then shook her head. "Just for the record, could you give me some warning next time you decide to do something like this? A little time to process the information would be nice."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother." he sighed.

"Don't you, 'yes, mother' me." she chided, giving him a small slap to the shoulder. "I mean it. It's not easy to let go of my baby."

_Oh God..._ "Mom, I'm not a baby anymore." he said, going back to his whining tone.

Syn let out a small laugh and pulled him into a deep hug. "It doesn't matter how old or big you get. As long as I'm around, you'll always be my baby." she told him. She kept him locked in the embrace for several long moments before loosening her arms to pull back. "Now, have you gotten this 'Luna' a herald yet?"

A 'herald' was a piece of jewelry that all 'human possessions' wore to show who they belonged to. They always bore a symbol – a unique style of vampiric heraldry, sort of like a coat of arms – that only other vampires would recognize. It was a safety mechanism that warned any vampires the person encountered that that particular human was off limits. Mihnea's symbol would have to be modified based on this father's design to show what bloodline he belonged to. He'd never had a reason to use one before now, so he'd have to have one made.

"Not yet." he replied. He felt sheepish for a second. "I was sort of hoping I could get one over break..."

His mother looked up at the ceiling. "That's something you'll have to do with your father." she said, then paused to give him a look. "**After** you've had this little conversation with her."

She seriously wasn't going to let him forget about that, was she? "Okay!" he exclaimed, holding up his hands. "After the conversation." his thoughts then turned to the idea of working on something like this with his father. "Um... what did dad say about it?"

Syn huffed in irritation. "Oh, trust me, Mihnea. You don't have to worry about what your father thinks about it. He puffed up the second we heard about it and has been strutting around like the king of the universe ever since." Mihnea's ears picked up on the 'evil bastard' comment she muttered at the end. Given that his mother tended to call Alucard that as an endearment, it wasn't a worrisome thing to hear.

"So..." he prodded, hoping to change the subject. "Does this mean I'm still allowed to get music off of your computer?"

He blinked hopefully and his mother gaped at him. "What on earth do you need music off of my computer for?" she asked him. "You have your own!"

"Well, yeah, but you have all the best songs, and there's no point in me buying them again." he pointed out. Mihnea pushed himself up onto his knees and put on his best pouty face. That always got a reaction out of her. "Please?"

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose into the air, trying to put him off. "I'll think about it."

Undeterred, Mihnea lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Please, mom? Please, please, pleeaasseeeeee?"

Syn did her best to ignore him, but when Mihnea steadfastly refused to let her go, she slumped and moved to push him off. "Oh, for the love of God! Okay, okay!" she exclaimed. "You can get music off my computer!"

Rather than letting her go completely, he tightened his arms around her in a tight hug before jumping off the couch. "Thank you!" he said in exuberance. "You're the best mom ever."

She sniffed at him again, but it was more playful than anything. "You'd damn well **better** think that with all the shit I have to put up with." she said. She extended a finger toward the door. "If you're going to steal all my stuff, you'll need to bring your phone in here to do it. My laptop doesn't leave this room, do you understand me?"

That was the long-standing rule, since all the work she did for Hellsing was done on that particular computer. Anything finished would be moved to an external storage device, but all open cases would still be on the hard drive. Mihnea nodded in understanding, then rushed out to collect his phone and the connecting cords he would need to sync with her music lists. When he got back, he settled himself down in the chair at her desk to get to work. His mother had been a DJ before coming to work for Hellsing, so she had literally hundreds of thousands of songs and pieces of music to sort through. It took nearly an hour to put together a list of things he didn't have in his own collection. One he got them set apart in a separate playlist, all he had to do was sit back and wait. While he was working on his thing with her computer, his mother had pulled out some paper files to sort through. When the computer screen read that there was only five minutes left before it would be safe to disconnect his phone, Mihnea noticed Syn's head shoot upright and her hand go still over the paper she was writing on.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking over at her in concern.

His mother shook her head, as if trying to clear it. "I'm fine." she said in a faraway sounding voice. "I'm just..." she went still and cocked her head to the side. Her eyes, which had previously held a slightly glazed over look, suddenly snapped into focus. "I have a bad feeling."

That got Mihnea's full attention and he suddenly sat upright. For however weird it sounded, when Syn Newsom had a bad feeling, it always meant something. His dad told him once that her intuition had been honed by death. When she got one of her 'feelings', you paid attention to it.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it something with dad and aunt Integra?"

That would be the simplest explanation, since she and Alucard already had that connection between them. However, his mother shook her head.

"No." she said. "Alucard's too far away for me to get a read on and he could handle anything that happens to Integra. This is... closer..." Without finishing whatever else she was going to say, she bolted up out of her seat and strode toward the door. "I'm getting Ed. You get Pip and Seras to the conference room. I don't know what the hell is going on, but it's big."

Mihnea needed no further explanation than that. If it wasn't his dad or aunt Integra that was in trouble, that left everyone at the house, or Connie. Leaving the phone and computer untouched, he jumped up and followed her out to hunt down his sister and the captain.

* * *

><p>Syn hated her weird feelings. Sure, it was nice to have an 'early warning system', but she never got anything more than the awful sensation that something terrible was about to happen. It would have been a hell of a lot more useful if her foreboding feelings had GPS or some kind of label attached to them. With nothing specific to work with, all she and Edmund could do was get in contact with various police forces to see if anything out of place was going on. This sort of thing had happened often enough over the years that none of Hellsing's office people batted an eye at being forced to do a full search because of her having a 'bad feeling'. They started with London, then gradually worked their way out to the surrounding areas. Finally, after a good half hour of pouring through different departments, they got a hit. There was a confirmed vampire attack in Surrey that had taken place only an hour or so ago. Within a few minutes of receiving that piece of information, they got more. Small, localized attacks following a specific route. It looked like whatever was responsible for this mess was moving. Searching for something.<p>

"Damn it, this is fucking **weird**." Edmund commented, looking over the maps and reports they had managed to pull together. "What the hell are these things doing?"

Pip and Seras leaned over the table, studying the maps for themselves. "They're avoiding the London area." the police girl pointed out. "Only the attack in Surrey produced ghouls. They're killing everyone else..."

"Zhe first 'it iz still active zhough." Pip said, frowning thoughtfully. "Zhat's one 'ell of a big group of vampires. Eet looks like zhe trail zplits 'ere..."

Syn couldn't for the life of her figure it out. What was the point of attacking a certain place and leaving some vampires behind while the others continued on elsewhere? Next to her, Mihnea was looking everything over, trying to piece things together for himself. Without any warning, he grabbed her arm, looking disturbed by something.

"It's Potter." he said.

Everyone stopped to look at him. "Potter?" Edmund asked. "Connie's friend Harry, you mean?"

Mihnea nodded and extended a finger toward the map. "Potter's family lives in Surrey." he reported. "The trail going south is heading right for Brighton. That's where Granger's family is."

Syn felt an icy chill run down her spine. It made sense. If the vampires were looking for Potter and they didn't find him at his family's home, they would move on to other places he was likely to be. From what Constance told them, Harry's closest friends were herself, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. If Grangers' house was next on the list, then the Weasleys' wouldn't be far behind. And if the trail had already split... Across from her, Syn saw Edmund's face go white. He had come to the exact same conclusion.

"Holy shit, Connie's going to be in the middle of this mess." he spat, then looked over at Mihnea. "Where's the Burrow? Do you know what city it's in?"

Mihnea shook his head, looking just as worried as everyone else felt. "It's in the countryside." he said. "I think... I've heard the twins talk about it being near a village. Ottery St. Mary. I have no idea what side it's on, but it's near there."

"That's three hours away!" Seras exclaimed, her eyes wide. "They've got too much of a head start for us to intercept them before they get there!"

Jesus fucking Christ, this situation had all sorts of bad written all over it in big, bold letters. Three attacks – two of which hadn't happened yet. If these vampires hit Brighton, Hellsing wouldn't be able to stop them completely, but they **might** be able to get there fast enough to keep the damage to a minimum. But Ottery St. Mary was going to be a problem. Even at full speed, it would take a while to get there and there was no telling what sort of carnage these bastards could cause in the meantime. After a quick discussion of their options, they formulated a workable plan. They would have to split up and respond to each area at once. The soldiers would be divided into three teams. Pip would take one to Surrey to handle the situation there. Mihnea would go with the second team to Brighton. The Granger girl knew him from school and they figured she would be more likely to cooperate with an evacuation if someone she recognized was there. It was fortunate that he felt ready to handle a solo mission, because they didn't have much choice in the matter. Because Potter and Constance were at the Burrow – and the vampires would make that their primary target when they didn't find the boy at the other locations – Syn and Seras would go with the third team to Ottery St. Mary. The soldiers wouldn't be able to locate a magical house, but Syn would be able to find it. Seras would provide the necessary muscle to deal with god knows how many monsters they would encounter there.

"You two should go ahead of the men." Ed told them before they left the conference room. "Syn's bike is fast enough to keep up with a vampire at full speed. The trucks wouldn't get there in time."

Syn and Seras both nodded in understanding and rushed off to get ready, leaving Edmund behind to call Constance to give her some warning about what was coming.

* * *

><p>"This is a conspiracy!" Ron exclaimed, throwing down his playing cards in irritation. "There's no bloody way you two have won this many times in a row on pure luck! Someone is <strong>cheating<strong>!"

Connie and Ginny exchanged a mutual look of pride and satisfaction. "You don't have to be a sore loser, Ron." his sister told him. "It's not our fault you're terrible at it."

Constance nodded with a playful grin. "Is it because we're girls? I said before that we could split up to make things more fair for you guys..."

"No way!" the boy said firmly, thrusting his fingers toward the cards laying on the floor. "Shuffle those damn things and deal them out. Me and Harry will get you eventually."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, looking just as determined to win as his partner was. "Every game gets closer." he said. "We'll do it this time."

"Right. Our luck is turning!"

Fred and George looked at each other in amusement. "Keep telling yourself that, Ronnikins." they said together.

Ron puffed up and sniffed at them both. "You two can't talk either!" he said. "You're losing too!"

"Not as bad as you though." George pointed out.

It was always funny to see a bunch of boys get so up in arms about a card game. Upon arriving at the Burrow, all the younger people in the house found that they were rested with a short nap – leaving them wide awake and eager for something to do after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went to bed. For the sake of keeping the noise level down, they all holed up in the attic to play Rook. Constance suggested it because it was one of the muggle card games she hadn't been able to teach George yet because it required at least four people to play. Since there were six of them, they were easily divided up into pairs. Fred and George, naturally, chose to work together, while Harry and Ron formed the second team; leaving Constance and Ginny to be partners with each other. Despite the fact that Ginny had never played Rook before, she quickly took to the game and the two girls had bested both sets of boys every time so far. Ron was awful about identifying which cards gave them points, meaning that it was really just a battle between the girls and the twins. They had their gambling experience on their side – which helped with making good bets for the widow. However, Constance had years of experience playing with the soldiers back home as her secret weapon. When the boys started getting more combative, she had no qualms with pulling that out to use against them.

It was Fred's turn to deal, so he gathered all the cards up off the floor and expertly shuffled them. A new hand was dealt out and everyone took to examining their cards for the seventh time that night. Constance didn't see much in her hand, so she'd have to rely on Ginny to make an appropriate bet this round.

"I say 180." the girl announced.

Connie arched a brow. Ginny had to be pretty confident in her hand to throw that one out there. Of course, the red one was on top of the widow, so everyone was lusting after it. George then made a bet of 200. When it was Harry and Ron's turn to make a bet, the two boys studied each other for a long moment. It seemed that they thought that if they stared at each other long enough, they'd be able to read each other's minds.

"500." Ron said at last.

Constance put down her hand where the cards couldn't be seen and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ron, we're betting how many points we think we can get with the cards we have." she told him. "You do realize that if you don't reach your bet, you automatically get zero poi..."

"Miss Hellsing!"

The girl's words dropped off and she froze when those words rang out through the air. Was that Persephone? What the bloody hell did she think she was doing? The others all went still and stared around the room in shock, wondering where the sound had come from.

"What the..." Ron began, only to be cut off.

"Miss Hellsing, this is important!" Persephone's voice called out of nowhere a second time. "Life or death important!"

_Life or death important?_ Connie wondered. What the hell was going on? It had to be something serious if her gun spirit was popping up out of nowhere when she knew she wasn't supposed to show up when her friends were around. While everyone else was still looking around wildly, fearful of what was happening, her eyes fixed on George. He was looking directly at her, his expression worried and questioning. When Persephone called out her name a third time, she knew there was no getting around it. Her identity had just be pulled out into the open. She took a deep, shuddering breath and made a decision. She had left the compact mirror she usually carried with her downstairs in her room. She'd have to use something else.

"Mirror!" she said, focusing on George and blocking everyone else out for the moment. "I need a mirror! Anything reflective."

He immediately dropped his cards and scrambled to search through the boxes stored in the attic. She did the same as well, doing her best to ignore the confused and bewildered questions of the others.

"What the hell is going on?" Ron asked, his eyes darting around at every corner of the room. "What** is** that?"

"What are you two doing?"

"George?"

"Connie!"

George finally found an old, antique looking hand mirror and called out to Constance. She caught it in mid air when he tossed it toward her and flipped it over to look into splotched glass surface.

"Damn it, Persephone, this had better be **really** fucking good." she said, not bothering to censor herself.

Persephone popped into the glass, looking more disheveled and upset than the girl had ever seen her before.

"I'm **so** sorry, Miss Hellsing." she apologized, genuinely upset about what she was doing. "There's no time for following rules right now. There is a group of vampires heading right for you, and they're coming to this house."

Connie's eyes went wide. "**WHAT?**"

"They're coming here." The girl in the mirror repeated. Her usual calm expression was tense with worry. It was striking, because every time Constance had seen Persephone, she always looked like nothing could bother her. This was **bad**. "You don't have long to get ready. There's going to be a whole army of ghouls with them."

A group of vampires was heading straight for the Burrow with an army of ghouls? Constance felt a tremor run through her hands, making it difficult to hold the mirror steady. No wonder her gun spirit had broken the secrecy rule. If they hit this house, they would be slaughtered. She was the only one here who knew enough about vampires to fight them off... what the hell were they supposed to do?

In that moment, something inside of her brain snapped. She was a Hellsing, and monsters were coming to attack the home of people she cared for. If something was going to be done to stop it, she would have to be the one to do it.

"Okay, okay." she said, more to herself than anyone else. "I... I have to call home. You... go back to the gun and stay there. I'm going to need your help."

Persephone nodded in understanding. "Absolutely, Miss Hellsing. Any way I can."

With that, the spirit vanished from the glass and Constance looked up to find herself confronted by the shocked and disbelieving stares of her friends. Of all the ways she thought her identity might have been revealed to them, she had never expected it to happen this way.

"Miss **Hellsing**?" Ginny questioned.

"Connie, what's going on?" Ron demanded.

"Why was that thing calling you, Miss Hellsing?" Fred asked, looking back and forth between her and George.

Harry swallowed. "Connie?" he asked, looking at her searchingly.

Constance squared her shoulders. If she was going to do this, she'd handle it like a Hellsing should. "I swear I'll explain everything to you guys when this is over." she promised. "Right now, we've got a bunch of vampires and ghouls heading right for us and if we don't do something, all of us will die."

* * *

><p>A.N: Oooohhh... evil cliffhanger. I'm a terrible person, I know.<p>

Reviews will make the next segment come online faster! ~shifty eyes~


	50. Evacuation

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Ever since her cousin had been allowed to go out on his first mission, Constance had lusted after the opportunity. Now, it looked like she was thrust into the middle of a combat situation against her will. This was her chance to prove herself and show she knew what she was doing. She just hoped and prayed that she actually **did** know what she was doing...

"I have to let someone know what's happening." she said, more thinking out loud than anything else. She looked up at the group of shocked and befuddled wizards standing before her. "Someone needs to go wake up your parents."

"I'll do it." George said. Of all of them he was the one who understood the most, so he was less overwhelmed by it.

They both moved toward the trap door of the attic – George to awaken his parents, and Connie to go get her bag from her room. However, not everyone was so keen on jumping and running.

"Now wait just a **damn** minute!" Fred said, upset about having been left out of something. "What the devil is going on? Someone had better start talking!"

"We don't have time!" Connie exclaimed, whirling back around. "There are god knows how many monsters coming this way, and I have no idea how long it will take them to get here! Now, if you lot want to just stand there looking stupid, you have at it. I have work to do."

With that, she turned back around and climbed down through the trapdoor after George. Behind them, everyone else was scrambling to follow. Constance paid no attention. On the fifth floor, George made a bee-line for the master bedroom and entered without knocking. She continued running down the third floor where the room she was using was located. Her trunk from school still lay on the floor. She hadn't bothered to do any unpacking aside from pulling out a change of clothes. Not wanting to waste any time rifling through it, she simply maneuvered the trunk up onto the bed and dumped out all the contents. Upstairs, she could hear the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley demanding to know what George had woken them up for. Fred was up there as well, continuing a rapid-fire questioning of his brother. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had followed Connie all the way down to her room and were staring at her from the doorway.

"Connie, **please.**" Harry pleaded. "What's..." he froze and went wide eyed when her frantic rifling through her close revealed her handgun. "Holy hell, Connie! That's a gun!"

"You have one of those fire-leg things?" Ron squeaked. "Wha..."

"It's a 'firearm', Ron." Constance spat in irritation. "Now **shut up**!"

She finally located the jacket she had worn on the journey and dug around in the pockets for her phone. Figuring that the house line might be busy, she bypassed that idea and punched in her father's cell phone number instead. He picked up on the first ring.

"Connie?" Edmund's voice came over the line. "I was just about to call you. Listen..."

"Daddy, Persephone told me that vampires are coming here!" she shouted into the phone before he could finish.

"We **know.**" he told her. "Your aunt got one of her feelings and we found them. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Syn and Seras are on their way right now, but they aren't going to get there before the vampires do. You're going to have to dig in your heels and try to keep everyone safe until they get there. **Do not **go out hunting them down. You stay where you are, fortify the house as best you can, and get everyone ready for an evacuation. Do you understand me?"

"I understand." she said quickly. "But, why are they coming **here**? Wouldn't they go for the village if..."

"They probably have if they're making ghouls. We don't have all the details yet, but it looks like they're after Potter." Her father interrupted. "Are the parents there?"

"George just woke them up." she reported. "Hang on."

Constance felt a chill run down her spine. These things were coming after Harry? She pushed past her friends standing in the doorway and ran upstairs. The twins and their parents had just gotten down to the fourth floor – everyone looking confused and on edge. When she saw Mr. Weasley, Connie ran up and thrust the phone toward him.

"My dad needs to talk to you." she said. "It's important."

Since Mr. Weasley didn't know the first thing about how to use a phone, she held the device up to his ear and instructed him to talk. The man gave her an odd look, then focused on what he heard coming through. Constance couldn't make out what was being said, but it sounded like Edmund was giving him a basic rundown of the situation. Mr. Weasley's face was white as he pulled away from the phone. When she put the phone back to her ear, Connie's dad gave her another warning to stay out of a fight if she could help it and to be safe. With that, the line went dead.

"Molly, start packing a bag. We have to get ready to leave." Mr. Weasley told his wife. He then looked around at all of his children and Harry. "All of you. **Now**."

Connie couldn't recall ever hearing such a firmness in the man's tone before. Apparently when Mr. Weasley got serious and began handing out orders, everyone stopped asking questions and obeyed. Before Mrs. Weasley went back upstairs, he lowered his head to whisper something to her. The woman's eyes went wide with fear and she quickly nodded and rushed back up to their room. While everyone else scurried around to pack up what they would need to take with them, Mr. Weasley took hold of Connie's arm and gently pulled her down the hallway so they could speak privately.

"I'm not going to ask you what this means because I imagine we'll get an explanation when this is over." he told her in a low voice. "Your father said you know what you're doing. What do we need to do?"

Thank God the man had enough common sense to not go into a panic. Constance took a deep breath. "If we leave the house before our people get here, we'll be sitting ducks." she told him. "We have to hold out as long as we can. The ghouls will probably hit first, so everyone needs to stay on the upper floors. If we destroy the staircase, they wont be able to get to us."

Mr. Weasley gave her a solemn nod of understanding and went off. It seemed he was going to take care of the destruction of the staircase himself. The sound of splintering wood and heavy objects falling to the floor a few moments later confirmed Connie's suspicion.

Since all of the younger people in the house had just gotten back from school, they didn't have much work to do as far as packing went. They could simply grab their trunks and enchant them to be smaller and lighter. After Constance got all of her things shoved back into her trunk – sans her gun and small supply of ammo – she thought of something. Getting rid of the staircase would keep them safe from the ghouls, yes, but there were vampires to worry about too. They wouldn't be stopped by something so simple. Any opening the creatures could get through would have to blessed. The girl dragged her trunk out into the hallway, then raced down to the second floor. Mr. Weasley was still down there urging Ginny to hurry up. Constance went right past the bedroom they were in to the landing that had once been connected to the stairs. Working quickly, she blessed everything she could think of – openings between the walls, the windows, and the sections of floor that were now open to the level below. It was as she was finishing up the last segment that the first wave of ghouls attacked the house.

At first, it was only a series of loud bangs on the door. Then came the distinctive crack of wood breaking and Connie caught sight of a grayish looking arm thrust through a hole in the kitchen door. She didn't see much more than that because Mr. Weasley grabbed her and pulled her back.

"Upstairs." he said firmly. "You too, Ginny."

The two girls ran back up to the stairs, Ginny dragging her trunk from school behind her. Everyone else had congregated on the third floor. Mrs. Weasley, now dressed, was listening to the sounds of the break-in with horror in her eyes. She waved at her daughter the moment she saw her and pulled the girl protectively into her arms.

"They're **inside** the house?" she asked. She looked over the girls' heads to Mr. Weasley, who had followed them up. "Arthur?"

"I got rid of the staircase, so they wont be able to reach us up here." he told her.

"So we're just going to let the things wonder through our house doing whatever they please?" Ron exclaimed. "Ghouls are like inferi, aren't they? I mean, we could kill them with fire..."

"Bloody **brilliant** idea, Ron." Fred said, making a face at him. "Set something that moves around on fire inside a **wood** house with a **thatched** roof?"

"The whole house would go up and we'd be burned alive before we could get out." George said, finishing his brother's sentiment.

Two floors below, more ghouls must have poured inside behind the first one. The chorus of eerie moans grew louder with each passing second. Everyone jumped when something glass broke downstairs. A lamp or something knocked over, no doubt. Harry's eyes traced over the walls frantically, then settled on Connie.

"You have a gun, don't you?" he questioned, pointing a finger toward the weapon she had strapped to her hip for safekeeping. "Can't you just shoot them?"

"I have a limited supply of bullets, Harry." she told him. "We don't know how many ghouls are down there and there are still vampires to worry about. I'm not about to waste ammo on something that can't get to us when we might need it later."

"But how are we supposed to get out if we can't get downstairs?" Ginny asked worriedly. "Climb out a window?"

Constance shook her head. "No, they'll be outside too. And once the vampires get a fix on us, there would be no way for us to outrun them. We have to stay here and wait for the evac..."

"Hush!" Mr. Weasley said quietly, holding up his hands to stop the argument.

It appeared that he had heard something downstairs. When everyone closed their mouths to listen, Connie could make it out as well. In and amongst the sounds the ghouls were making, there were voices. That didn't bode well because ghouls weren't capable of anything more than moans and groans.

"Well, well, well, it looks like someone's done their homework." a male voice declared snidely. "And a barrier is up too. Very clever."

It sounded like the vampires had arrived.

* * *

><p>When his team arrived in Brighton, they found that the attack was focused on the North side of town. Their targets had only a small lead on them, so they hadn't had much time to work. Seeing as how there were only a handful of ghouls they could see, Mihnea left them for the human soldiers to handle. He had no idea which house Granger lived in, so he would have to search for it.<p>

In the end, it wasn't that difficult to find. The Grangers lived at the end of the street all the ghouls were originating from. There was even a wooden, hand-painted sign bearing their name hanging over the front door. The white frame was splintered and the door itself hung pathetically on it's hinges. Mihnea felt the weight of worry climb up into his throat. The vampires were already inside and judging from the screaming pouring forth from the gaping hole left by the destroyed door, they had found the family. The boy drew his gun and bolted inside, hoping that he wasn't too late.

All the lights in the house were out, but his enhanced vision allowed him to see well enough to identify his surroundings. The front door opened into a small entrance way with a staircase at the end. Mihnea's senses were overwhelmed by the scent of blood and death. A woman's body lay sprawled out and motionless about halfway up the stairs. The hair was the same, but the face was too old to be Hermione's. It must be her mother. To the left of the entrance way was the living room. A side table was overturned and an antique porcelain lamp lay shattered on the floor. There had been a fight in here. Near the windows bathing the room with pale moonlight, he found the second body – this one an older male, still in pajamas with his throat torn out. Beyond the living room was what had to be a dining area. He couldn't actually see anything yet, but he could hear the sounds of struggling. Extending his senses beyond the room he was in, Mihnea picked up the presence of three people – two vampires and one human. There was little doubt as to who that human was.

"I'm **not **telling you where he is!" Granger's voice rang out, angry and terrified at the same time. "I'd die first!"

"It doesn't matter anymore." a resonant male voice proclaimed. "If he isn't here, then we know where he is. As for you dying..." he paused, as if turning to speak to his companion. "She does look tasty, doesn't she?"

Another voice, this one female, scoffed. "I say we keep the little bitch alive until they wake up." she said. Her tone then shifted to a mocking parody of gentleness. "Mommy and daddy are going to be hungry."

Something about the entire situation was so twisted and evil that Mihnea couldn't stand it. There were some people in the world that deserved to be tortured that way, but Hermione Granger wasn't one of them. It seemed that the vampires were so wrapped up in their taunting of the girl that they didn't notice Mihnea's presence. That was fine by him. He could use the element of surprise to his advantage. When a comment was made about it being a shame to let such a 'pretty little thing' die a virgin, he felt his fangs lengthen and his claws come out. He'd heard more than enough out of them. As Granger let out a high-pitched squeal of pain at something they were doing to her, Mihnea grit his teeth together and rushed forward. Taking only a split second to locate his target's positions, he fired at the female holding Hermione captive. It was a shot to the neck – not enough to kill, but certainly enough to put her down and out of the fight. The moment she felt the vampire's grip on her loosen, Granger jerked free and bolted through a free swinging door into another room. The female vampire hit the floor, clutching at the gaping hole in her throat, while the male snarled and whirled around to face the new threat. Mihnea didn't have time to fire a second shot before he was knocked to the ground.

The two of them struggled, growling and clawing at each other like animals until the boy managed to get into a more defensible position. Once he was on his feet again, Mihnea dragged the vampire up by the collar of his coat and shoved him up against a wall. Summoning up his shadows, he directed them to impale the bastard through the chest. The vampire went rigid, a wet, pained sound escaping his lips before he crumpled to dust. Mihnea then turned his attention to the female. She was still gripping her neck wound, trying desperately to crawl backwards with small, weak motions. From what he could make out of the bloody mess between her fingers, the damage was enough to kill her if she didn't get a massive amount of blood quickly. She could still speak, but just barely. Mihnea walked right up to her and crouched down. He wanted this thing to see his face before he put her out of her misery.

The vampire's shining golden eyes widened in confusion as she picked up the scent of something she had never encountered before. "Wha... are..." she sputtered, blood dripping from her lips. "**Monster.**"

The last word was spat out like a curse, and Mihnea's eyes narrowed in anger. If they weren't red before, they would be now. "Me?" he asked her. "You attack a defenseless family, threaten to rape a little girl then feed her to her parents, and **I'm** the monster? Go to hell, bitch."

Without another word, he quickly rose to his feet and slammed his booted foot down into her face. The blow was hard enough to crush the skull and destroy the brain – killing her. Mihnea sniffed in satisfaction at the new pile of ash on the floor. He then did a quick scan of his surroundings and found that Granger was still nearby. Probably hiding in the kitchen. He decided it would be best to leave her where she was for the moment. He had some work to do that the girl didn't need to witness.

While he didn't much like the idea of shooting her parents, it was something that had to be done. The attacking vampires made it sound like they would turn into ghouls. It was possible they were bluffing to scare Granger into submission, but he hadn't yet encountered a vampire who wasn't willing to actually do it. It was best to be safe. When Mihnea went back to the living room, the body there showed no signs of movement. He leveled Venom at the man's head and fired a single, well placed shot. He did the same for the woman on the stairs – noting that in both cases, the bodies turned to dust. It was better for them to be put down that way, rather than being given time to reanimate. If anything, it would save Granger the horror of witnessing her parents turn into mindless eating machines that wanted to kill her. Mihnea quickly shook that thought out of his head. He couldn't think of them as her parents. They were just bodies. Anonymous victims that had to be taken care of. Using any other terminology for them would force him to think about the fact that he hadn't arrived in time to save them. Had the circumstances been different, the notion wouldn't have entered his head. But this attack involving the family of someone he knew – albeit not very well – just made it feel... **different**. Closer to home in a way that made him uncomfortable.

Pushing the sensation to the side, Mihnea placed his gun back into it's holster and turned on his heel to fetch Granger. As the only survivor, she needed to be evacuated. Upon entering the kitchen and seeing her nowhere, he traced her scent to a what looked like a small closet. A broom cupboard or pantry perhaps? He moved to open the door.

"Gran...?" he began, but the question ended abruptly when he found himself hit with what felt like a wildcat loosed from the bowels of hell.

"Stay the bloody hell away from me, monster!" the girl screeched as she surged forward to attack.

The wind was knocked from his lungs and Mihnea hissed in pain as sharp, hot fire rushed through his left arm. Jesus Christ, she had a knife! It looked like something in Granger had snapped and she was determined to go down fighting. The boy had to keep his arms raised to block her from hitting anything vital.

"Granger!" he shouted at her, hoping she would recognize the sound of his voice, if nothing else.

It had no effect. The wild-eyed girl continued kicking, punching, clawing, and stabbing with that damn kitchen knife she'd armed herself with – managing to land several good slashes to his arm before he got close enough to grab her. Not able to think of a better way to calm her down, Mihnea maneuvered her struggling form across the room and pinned her against the refrigerator.

"Hermione Granger!" he said in his deepest, most intimidating tone of voice.

For a brief moment, the girl froze and stared at him. Mihnea took advantage of the opening to to bore his gaze deep into hers. He reached out for her mind.

"Go to sleep." he commanded.

Granger blinked and a small flash of recognition crossed her features. "You...?" she mumbled before her eyes rolled back and she fell unconscious.

Mihnea carefully allowed her dead weight to slip slowly to the floor so she wouldn't be injured. Her pajamas and robe were drenched through with blood. However, it appeared that she herself bore nothing more serious than a few bruises and scrapes from being roughed up. All the blood was from him. Once he got her down to the floor, the boy immediately rolled up his sleeve to assess the damage. The entire operation hurt like hell and once the wounds were revealed, there was too much blood to make out anything definite. All he knew was that something important had been hit. His arm didn't just bleed, but spurted in time with his heartbeat. Along with the blinding pain at the smallest bit of movement, there was a numb tingle than ran from his elbow all the way down to his fingers. An attempt at making a fist was successful only in spraying blood into his face. Mihnea could scarcely get his fingers to bend.

_Damn it to hell. _He thought. His mother was going to throw a god awful fit about him letting himself get hurt on the job. Leaving Granger where she was, he fumbled through the kitchen, searching for a dishtowel. He located one in a drawer near the sink and wrapped it tightly around his arm. He then pulled his shirt sleeve back down and buttoned it to keep the makeshift bandage in place. That would have to do until he got back home. His eyes closed and he leaned up against the counter to catch his breath and allow the pain to recede before doing anything else. However, a loud meow caught his attention. Mihnea's eyes slid open to find a large, fluffy orange cat pawing at Hermione and glaring at him in accusation. He'd almost forgotten the girl had a cat. It must have hidden away upstairs during the attack.

"I had to put her to sleep so she wouldn't kill me." he told it, knowing the feline would understand. Cats were just as intelligent as people, though very few believed it. He pointed to himself. "I'm a good guy."

The cat – Crookshanks, he remembered – studied him consideringly for a moment, then meowed again. It looked like he believed him.

"I have to get her out of here." he said, thinking about what his next move should be. "Where's her room?"

Crookshanks' tail twitched and he turned to march out of the kitchen. Mihnea took a deep breath to prepare for the coming pain, then pushed himself away from the counter to follow. The fluffy feline led him upstairs, coming to a halt just outside the second door on the right of the hall. At the top of the landing, the boy saw why Granger had come at him with a knife rather than defending herself with magic. Her wand was laying on the floor, snapped clean in two. He bent to gather up the pieces, then continued on to her bedroom.

He remembered Connie mentioning something about the girl having plans to go skiing with her family over the holidays. While he wasn't sure of when the trip was supposed to happen, hopefully Granger would already have a few things packed up. She didn't seem like the sort to put things off to the last minute. Sure enough, sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed was a light blue, medium sized duffel. It was the sort that was big enough to carry enough clothes for a week or so if packed right. Using his good arm, Mihnea grabbed it and set it on the bed long enough to tuck the broken wand pieces in an exterior pocket, then slung it over his shoulder to take it back downstairs with him.

Then came the hard part. Mihnea hadn't figured on getting Granger and her things out of the house while injured. He had to figure out the best way to carry her and the bag without dropping her. The weight itself wasn't an issue, but the bulk of two large objects was potentially problematic. His left arm was practically useless at the moment and the loss of blood was beginning to make him feel dizzy and off balance. He wound up hooking the strap of the duffel over his head so he wouldn't have to worry about it slipping off. He then maneuvered Hermione into a position where he could fold her over his right shoulder to carry like a sack of potatoes. Once he was relatively comfortable that he could make it back to the truck without dropping her on her head, he turned to leave. For the second time, he was confronted by Crookshanks. The cat had jumped up onto the island in the center of the kitchen, and was watching him expectantly. _Damn it. _He had a bloody **cat** to worry about too. He should just leave it there. God knows he had enough to do without wasting valuable time on an animal. But... a thought of Pixie popped into his head. If something happened to him and she got left behind, he'd be mad as hell. He grit his teeth in frustration, then slumped.

"Alright, look here." he said with a huff, giving Hermione's cat a serious look. "If you're coming, you're going to have to stay close and keep up. I can't carry you too."

The creature appeared a wee bit miffed that his mistress was being carried while he was denied, but the expression lasted only a moment. Crookshanks leapt down from the island and followed along a few steps behind as Mihnea finally made his way out of the house.

* * *

><p>One of the few complaints Constance had about the Burrow was the thinness of the walls. It always seemed that if you wanted to have a private conversation, you had to take the time to put up wards first. But now, what had been an annoyance in the past was proving useful.<p>

Everyone upstairs held their breath, refusing to make any sound once they heard the vampires speaking. Though they were two floors below, the lack of accessory noise allowed Connie to hear them better than she would otherwise. There were three distinct voices – all male. There could be more vampires than that present, but even just three was bad. But the most disturbing thing wasn't that there were multiple vampires and God knows how many ghouls inside the house with them. It wasn't even that the monsters quickly identified that all of them were upstairs. No... rather, it was the fact that the creatures sensed that there was a magical barrier blocking their progress, and they didn't seem the least bit upset about it. It sounded like these things thought it was **funny.** That didn't give Connie a very reassuring feeling. She had done everything right, hadn't she? There was no way they could...

A loud cracking sound interrupted her thoughts and everyone jumped. It was the exact same sound that had been made when then the ghouls broke through the door – only this time closer. It was difficult to tell exactly where it was coming from, but not knowing what it was was frightening.

"What are they doing?" Harry whispered.

Everyone shook their heads, not able to come up with an explanation for the noise. Were they down there busting through the walls or something? That's certainly what it sounded like. But there would be no point to doing that if what they wanted was upstairs. Suddenly, almost as quickly as it began, everything fell silent again. Even the moans of the ghouls lowered to what could be called a whisper. Everyone went back to holding their breath again, looking amongst each other in bewildered worry. Mrs. Weasley's arms around Ginny tightened. Something wasn't right. Constance's hand instinctively went for the gun at her side. The feel of the metal was reassuring in a small way.

Then, out of nowhere, a hand burst up through the floor, sending shards of wood flying in every direction. Holy shit, that's what the sound was! They were breaking through the goddamn** floor**! Everyone scuttled back away from the menacing looking hand, but Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were too close to get back in time. The pale fingers wrapped around Ginny's ankle and roughly dragged her down.

"Ginny! **No!**" Mrs. Weasley screeched, surging forward to grab at her daughter.

The redheaded girl's eyes went wide with the horror of what was happening and she screamed as the creature holding her leg refused to let go. Everyone else jumped to join Mrs. Weasley in keeping her from being pulled through. But the vampire's inhuman strength was too much, even for all of them combined. Ginny seemed to realize that their efforts weren't working and tears welled up in her eyes.

"**Please!**" she cried out, her arms flying out to grab at Harry and Fred's shirts in a vise-like grip. "Don't let me go! Plea..."

The last plea broke off and ended in a pained scream as the vampire's strength finally won out. Ginny slipped through everyone's fingers and disappeared through the now enormous hole in the floor. The creatures below saw that the girl they had gotten wasn't the person they wanted and the one that had grabbed her now pushed both arms up through the hole. They planted themselves firmly on the solid floor like it was going to pull itself up into the hallway with them. Moving without thinking, Connie drew her gun and pointed it down through the hole and fired. She knew her bullet had hit true when the ghostly colored flesh of the arms suddenly exploded into a cloud of dust. Beneath them, an angry sounding growl erupted from the other two vampires. Knowing that they wouldn't stop until they had Harry, Connie pressed her palms against the floor and performed another blessing – sealing the hole and every inch of the floor to block them. Why hadn't she thought to do that the first time? She'd never heard of a vampire breaking their way up through a floor before.

"Let me** go**!" Ginny's voice screeched below them. It sounded like she was fighting to get loose.

There was only one way to see what was going on and that was to run down to the staircase at the end of the hall that led down to the second floor. Everyone rushed toward it, but Constance somehow managed to push her way through to the front. She hadn't blessed anything on the third floor because she thought the vampires wouldn't be able to get that far. She grabbed Ron's arm and jerked him back just as one of the vampires began running up the stairs. Holding out a hand to direct the energy to it's target, she muttered a blessing to block the top of the staircase and the opening around the landing. It found it's mark and the blessing sealed over the area before it reached the top. The vampire snarled at them in fury when it ran full speed into the invisible barrier. The girl lifted her gun and was about to blow the damn thing's head off when the vampire holding Ginny suddenly came into view.

"Put it down, or the girl dies!" it shouted.

Constance faltered. She had a clear shot at the vampire now at the foot of the stairs. But there would be no way to shoot both of them. The vampire holding Ginny was holding her in front of him like a shield. Even if she killed the first and got a clear shot at the other's head, Ginny would be dead before she had time to pull the trigger. George pushed his way past Fred and grabbed her hand, pushing the gun down toward the floor. Connie didn't dare let go of it, but the monsters seemed satisfied that it was no longer pointed in their direction.

Ginny was kicking and struggling like a madwoman trying to get free. The vampire holding her made a face of irritation and grabbed a handful of her hair to jerk her head back, then gave her arm a painful twist to make her settle down. When Ginny cried out in pain, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gripped the banister so hard their knuckles went white.

"You let my baby **go**!" the woman shouted in a venomously angry voice. She moved to draw her wand, but her husband grabbed her before she got it out of her pocket.

"Molly, you cant!" he told her. "You could hit her!"

The boys stared on in horror, not sure of what to do as their father turned his eyes back toward their attackers. "What do you want?"

The vampire at the foot of the stairs pushed his dark hair back out of his face and strode toward his companion, keeping his gleaming red eyes trained on them the entire time. His pacing gave Connie the impression of a shark slowly circling it's meal.

"The boy." he said in a frigid tone. "The one with the lightning scar. Give him to us."

"Like hell!" Ron and the twins shouted.

Mr. Weasley shot them a look that warned them to be quiet, then went back to the vampires. "You can't have him." he said firmly.

"Then the girl dies." the one holding Ginny spat, putting a hand on her forehead as if preparing to break her neck. "Give us the boy and we let her go."

The other vampire nodded as if to assure them of their sincerity. "We want nothing to do with you. Give us what we want, and we'll return your daughter and leave you alone."

Harry was staring at the scene in shock, absorbing the fact that all of this was done in an effort to get to him. He swallowed deeply. "Let me go." he said quietly, looking around at the others. "You can't let them kill Ginny."

Even though he had said it quietly, it looked like Ginny had heard him. She struggled in the arms of her captor. "**NO**!" she shouted. "Don't you dare let him come down here!"

Connie whirled around to face him. "The bastards are lying, Harry." she hissed at him. "The second they have you, they'll kill every one of us."

The boy looked frantic, appearing to think all of this was his fault somehow. "But..."

"Be **quiet**, Harry." Mr. Weasley said, holding out an arm, but not looking away from the monster holding his daughter captive. "You're not going anywhere."

Below them, the vampires sneered at them. "I would listen to the boy if I were you." the lighter haired one said. He ran a finger down the side of Ginny's cheek suggestively. "Such a pretty girl. Is her life worth sacrificing for his?"

They were in a complete deadlock. The vampires obviously weren't going to budge, and none of them were about to hand Harry over. The only viable option was to find a way to get Ginny away from them. When the monsters saw that no one was moving to give them what they wanted, the dark haired vampire – whom Connie was beginning to see as the 'leader', let out an exaggerated sounding sigh.

"Have it your way then." he said, then motioned to the one holding Ginny. "You can eat her."

The lighter haired one's eyes lit up with delight and Ginny closed her eyes and whimpered as her head was jerked back to bear her throat. Someone had to do something! Not really sure of what she was doing, Constance decided to take initiative and get involved. She jerked her gun arm back up and took aim at the one she had a clear shot at.

"If you kill her, both of you are dead." she warned.

Everyone surrounding her went wide eyed. "Connie!" George hissed at her. "What are you doing?"

"Keep your mouth shut!" Mrs. Weasley warned. "Arthur! Stop her!"

"Stay out of this." she said, refusing to be distracted. "I know what I'm doing." she looked back at the vampires, an idea forming in her mind. It was completely insane, but given that there were no other options, it might be the only thing that would buy them some time. "You think you can come in here acting all big and bad and expect to get whatever you want? We all know that you can't do a goddamn thing. If you kill her, you wont have anything to bargain with anymore, you sure as hell wont get Harry, and I'll blow both of your brains out before you can blink. So you go right ahead. Do it."

"She's lost her bleeding mind!" Someone exclaimed, though Connie had gone past the point of being able to recognize who it was. She was too locked into the moment. Someone grabbed her and tried to take her gun away, but she shoved them off, refusing to look away from her opponents.

On the floor below, both vampires went still at her words and focused all their attention on her. She had just called their bluff and they knew it.

"**You.**" the leader said, starting up his back and forth pacing again. "Who are you? I've never heard of a witch who carries a gun..."

Connie narrowed her eyes. "What makes you think I'm a witch?" she challenged. Keeping their attention on her was distracting them from their threat to kill Ginny.

"The home of pure-blood wizards is an unlikely place to find someone who **isn't** a witch." the vampire replied, his expression both challenging and thoughtful. "We were told to watch out for spells, and yet I didn't see you use a wand to put up this barrier. Who **are **you?"

"I'm someone you **seriously** don't want to mess with." she told him.

Suddenly, she felt her anger at the situation change to an icy intensity. The power had shifted. It was subtle. So subtle that perhaps the others hadn't felt it yet. But Connie noticed and grabbed onto it with both hands. She had taken control. And **God** it felt good. So this is what it felt like, to hold influence over a monster... Something in the air changed. Constance wasn't quite sure what it was, but when she paid closer attention, realization struck her. The ghouls downstairs were growing louder. They had sensed something and wanted to go after it. That smallest of signals was enough to give her hope and strengthen her growing resolve.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three." she said in a tone that would surely make her mother glow with pride. "You're going to let Ginny go, or I'm going to start shooting. And I'll warn you right now, I don't miss very often."

In the back of her mind, she made a silent plea to Persephone that if she had to shoot, the spirit had better not let her miss. She had no idea if the gun spirits could communicate that way, but the weapon in her hand grew warm – almost like she had heard her and was giving her assurance that she wouldn't allow any bullets to go astray.

Apparently sensing that she was serious, the lighter haired vampire tightened his grip on Ginny and pulled her up off the floor to make a better shield for himself. The leader of the pair just narrowed his eyes.

"You wouldn't **dare**." he said. "What makes you think a little girl like you could actually hit one of us?"

"I've already killed one of you." she reminded him. "And I'd be careful what you say, if I were you. This 'little girl' as more resources at her disposal than you can imagine. Try me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Weasley blink. She had used the exact same phrase her mother had when he had seen her, and there was no way he didn't recognize where it came from. As she prepared herself to begin her countdown, the ghouls downstairs let out a series of loud and agitated groaning sounds. Gunfire rang out and everyone around her ducked, confused and terrified about what was happening. The two vampires on the second floor both blinked in shock and looked back to see what was going on.

"What the fu..." the one holding Ginny began.

He was so surprised that he actually lowered the girl a hair, leaving Constance a clear shot to his head. That was the best opportunity she was going to have. Not wasting a second, she squeezed off the trigger and sent one of her bullets flying into his head. His body crumpled to dust and Ginny hit the floor with a sputter of shock. She quickly realized she was free and attempted to scuttle backwards. Meanwhile, the other vampire whirled back around and he saw the girl making her escape. He moved to catch her before she got too far away, but a large, dark shape flew up from the lowermost floor and blocked his advance. The shadowy mass swirled together to form a massive black dog with three pairs of glowing red eyes. It crouched low to the floor and snarled, making the vampire skid to a halt in horror. Almost as soon as Baskerville appeared, more shadows arrived, these twinning around the monster's limbs to drag him down to the first floor. Connie lost track of him once he disappeared under the landing.

Baskerville made no move to follow the screaming vampire. Instead, he turned around and prodded over to a horrified looking Ginny. The girl sped up her attempts at crawling away and when the dog was close enough, she raised her hands as if to fight it off. But the hellhound just ignored her attempts at shoving it away and walked behind her to take the collar of her sweater between his teeth.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley and all of her brothers cried out in horror.

Everyone besides Connie drew their wands and pointed them at the animal, while Mr. Weasley ran toward the stairs as if to go down there to rescue her from what they perceived as a new threat.

"Stop!" Constance shouted, seeing what they were doing. "Don't attack him!"

She didn't think any kind of spell they cast would actually hurt him, but it might make the hellhound angry. Down below, Baskerville was dragging the squirming, terrified girl backwards toward the foot of the stairs. Once there, he let go of her sweater and padded back in front of her, planting himself between all of them and the space where the vampires had broken through to the 2nd floor. It looked like he was making sure that if anything else managed to get upstairs, it would encounter him first. When they recognized what the creature had just done, everyone faltered, though they didn't lower their wands.

"Wha... what is it doing?" Fred asked.

"He's protecting us." Connie said.

Ron was still staring at the dog with wide eyes. "But... that thing looks like the Gri..."

"Baskerville **isn't** the Grim, Ron." Constance said. Why did everything he see automatically become that damn omen?

On the stairs, Mr. Weasley was keeping an eye on Baskerville as he continued down to get Ginny. When he reached the bottom and slid his hands under her shoulders to help her up, the hellhound glanced back to watch him. Both Ginny and her dad went still, but when they saw that the creature made no move to come toward them, Mr. Weasley went on with slowly pulling her up the stairs. Ginny could get up onto her feet, but the leg she had been dragged down through the floor by didn't look like it would carry much weight. Once they reached the top, Mrs. Weasley rushed over to hug her daughter and give her a good look over to make sure she was okay. It seemed that the girl's ankle was sprained and could be fixed with a few healing spells - though she would have to keep weight off of it while the magic settled in.

On the lowermost floor, the gunfire had finally stopped, but it sounded like there was still a fight going on. Constance could hear the voices of Seras and her aunt talking to someone. That vampire they had dragged downstairs was still alive and they were demanding to know who had sent them. But the monster refused to tell them anything. Then what only could have been the vampire let out an ear-splitting scream of agony and everything grew quiet again. Everyone winced at the sound, then looked around at each other. Mrs. Weasley shot a worried look at her husband.

"What just happ..."

"Connie!" Syn's voice rang out, cutting her off. "Are you up there?"

_Thank God._ Constance thought. If her aunt was talking to her, then the fight was probably over. "Yeah!" she called down. "Everyone's up here. Is it over?"

"We've cleared them all out." the woman replied. "You can come on down."

With the assurance that all the vampire and all the ghouls had been taken care of, Mr. Weasley directed everyone to get their things and head down to the second floor. No one seemed very keen on being anywhere near Baskerville, but when they got to the top of the staircase, the hellhound ran off toward the hole in the floor he had come up through and jumped down. With him gone, everyone was more comfortable with continuing their advance downstairs. On the second floor landing, Fred and George jumped down first to help get Ginny down without hurting her injured leg too much. Mr. Weasley followed, then Ron, Harry, and Connie handed off the trunks and Hedwig's cage to them. Once Ron and Harry jumped down, Mr. Weasley held up his arms to assist his wife and George did the same for Constance.

The entire first floor of the house was a wreck. Furniture was overturned and broken, the kitchen door was shattered into dozens of pieces, large bulletholes peppered the walls, and piles of ash lay everywhere. Standing near what was left of the kitchen table, Syn was decked out in full Hellsing uniform, twin guns strapped to her hips and ear-piece in her ear. Baskerville was nowhere to be seen. When she saw Connie, the woman paused in talking to the other soldiers and waved her arms at her.

"Thank God!" she said, pulling her into a strong hug. She pulled back and smoothed the hair down on both sides of Connie's face. "We've been worried sick. You're okay?"

Constance nodded. "I'm fine, aunt Syn. But..." she stopped and glanced back toward the girl Fred and George were holding upright between them. "Ginny. She got pulled down through the floor and her leg's hurt."

Syn opened her mouth to say something, but Mrs. Weasley went wide eyed in disbelief. "**Aunt **Syn?" she demanded, looking back and forth between them. "You're her aunt?"

"I am." Connie's aunt replied, turning her attention toward the woman. "I'm assuming you're Mrs. Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded uncomfortably and she not so subtly shifted position to put herself between Syn and her children. Syn noticed, but didn't comment on it. Mr. Weasley took a small step forward and cleared his throat.

"Miss Newsom." he said giving a small nod of acknowledgment. "I remember you."

The woman inclined her head as well. "I remember you too." she paused for a moment. "It's... Arthur, right?" when he replied that she was correct, she looked around at the others then went on. "Look, I know this is very confusing for all you, but we're here to help you. Hellsing's soldiers have just arrived to clear the remaining ghouls out of the village, and there's a truck not far from here that's ready to take you to a safe location."

"And just how are we supposed to believe that?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking suspicious of her. "You're a **Newsom**."

Connie's aunt focused on the woman for a second time, looking like she wanted to do nothing more than tear into her for being ignorant. Thankfully, she held herself back. A little. "With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley, you're a witch, and I was raised to **never** trust a witch or wizard. But for the past few years, I've been forced to get over that and deal with you people anyway. Now, you don't have to like it, but my orders are to evacuate your family and that's what I intend to do. I can knock you out and drag your ungrateful ass out by force if I have to."

Mr. Weasley realized that the woman was serious and gave his wife's arm a squeeze to make her be quiet. "That won't be necessary." he said.

"Good." Syn said with a sniff. She then looked past them toward the sitting area of the house. "You finished with that bastard yet, Seras?"

Constance gave a start. She hadn't seen the draculina yet and had been wondering what she was up to. When Seras appeared in the doorway licking a few stay drops of blood from her fingers, the girl figured out what it was. It had sounded like the vampire refused to cooperate with their demands for information, so Seras must have eaten him to absorb his memories. She hated doing it, but sometimes circumstances forced her to.

"I've got everything." she replied, her voice making everyone turn to look at her. Seras' gaze focused on Constance and she quickly came forward to hug her like Syn had. "Thank God you're okay!" she gushed. "Sir Integra would skin us all alive if something happened to you!"

The boys all looked gobsmacked by the appearance of a short, voluptuous blonde with a giant cannon strapped to her back. When Seras straightened and turned to look over at them, their expressions changed to barely contained worry. While the draculina, like Pip, could usually keep up a normal appearance, her fangs came out and her eyes changed to a vivid red when she'd been in a fight. Sometimes she could quickly change them back to their normal blue, but if there was still a threat around, they remained that way.

"Vam... pire..." Ron mumbled.

Seras shook her head. "I work for Hellsing. I'm not going to hurt you." she looked back at Syn. "We need to move. There's another vampire in the area and he knows we're here."

Syn nodded in understanding then said something to her about staying behind with the men to handle it. Someone needed to stay with the Weasleys during transport in case another group of vampires tried to hit them en route. Seras agreed to remain with the men and pulled her Harkonnen off of her back before running back outside to begin her hunt for the vampire they knew was still around. Aunt Syn then got everyone organized in preparation for their trek to the truck. Trunks were shrunk down and placed in bags or pockets, and Harry agreed to let Hedwig out of her cage so she could fly along behind them. The bird was smart and would be able to find him no matter where he was. The twins kept Ginny's arms over their shoulders to help her walk. The journey to the truck wasn't a long one. It was just down the hill from the Burrow. When they arrived, the two soldiers who had remained with the vehicle to participate in the evacuation helped them up into the area at the back and then they were off.

Now that everything was pretty much over, everyone was so quiet. It was the sort of silence that made a person nervous because it implied that there was a lot of thinking going on behind it. George had no problem sitting near Connie, but the others were still giving her weird, considering looks. Trying to determine exactly what all of this stuff meant about her. The girl hated it, but wasn't sure what could be done about it. Toward the front, her aunt was on the radio, talking to another team that had been sent out. The only way Constance could ignore the uncomfortable silence was to pay attention to what she was doing. She watched as the woman frowned deeply, then assured the person on the other end that she would 'find out'.

"What's going on?" she asked when Syn made her way back to where everyone else was sitting.

Her aunt shook her head, still frowning, and peered over at where Harry and Ron were. "Are you Harry Potter?" she asked.

Harry gave a small start and looked up at her. "Um... yes?"

"The family you live with... are they the Dursleys at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging?"

The boys eyes widened in recognition. "How do you know that?" he asked.

Syn's lips pulled into a thin line while everyone looked at her. It was clear from her expression that she didn't like what she was about to say. "I hate that you have to find out this way, but we found your uncle. He's dead."

Everyone went wide eyed in shock and Constance gaped at her. "They hit Little Whinging too?" she exclaimed.

"There were several groups of vampires out looking for him tonight." her aunt explained. She turned back to Harry and frowned again. "The report I just got said that your uncle was found inside your house and it looks like he was the only one there. I know this is a lot to deal with at once, but do you know where your aunt and her son could be? We need to find them and make sure they're okay."

Harry's face was a ghostly shade of white. He swallowed deeply and shook his head as if to clear out the thoughts running through it. "I... I don't know what plans they had." he said. "But... Uncle Vernon has family up North. That's the only place I can think of..."

He gave Syn the address and she went back to the radio to tell the soldiers to go there and make sure that his aunt and cousin were there and were safe. Ron quietly told Harry he was sorry about his uncle, to which Harry just shook his head. He was too shocked to say much of anything. This was bigger than Constance had thought it was. Vampires attacking the Burrow and now they find out that they had hit Harry's house too? A chill went through her as she thought of something.

"Hermione!" she said, looking at Syn, who had just gotten off the radio again. "If they went to Harry's house and the Burrow, they might go to her house too..."

Her aunt held up her hands. "We already sent a team to Brighton." she said.

The woman then made a face like there was something she knew that she didn't want to say. Everyone noticed. Harry and Ron both perked up, wanting to know what was going on.

"Hermione, is she..." Ron began.

"She's fine." Syn told him. "We got her out of the house. From what I understand, she's unconscious at the moment, but you'll be able to see her when we get back to manor." she paused again. "She was the only survivor."

Harry and Ron both went silent and the others looked down. Constance's chest was filled with a new tightness. Harry's uncle and Hermione's parents were gone. Even with their luck at having gotten through the attack relatively unscathed, there were still casualties... She hung her head.

Across from her, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a look of understanding at what the children were probably feeling. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"We're being taken to a manor?" he questioned.

That sounded like as good an opening as any. If she was going to come out and admit everything, she might as well do it now.

"Hellsing Manor." Constance said before her aunt had a chance to speak. She looked up to see the woman studying her. She could tell this was something she wanted to say, so she remained quiet and let her do it. The girl swallowed. "It looks like you guys are going to be staying at my house for a while."

* * *

><p>A.N: So... remember that 'rubbish' prediction made from Connie's palm about a catastrophic event and a large secret revealed? I think it just happened. O_o<p>

Review! You HAVE NO CHOICE! ~uses evil mind beam~


	51. House of Cards

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The following hours were the longest and most uncomfortable Constance could recall experiencing. During the three hour drive back to the manor, everyone was quiet. Speaking only when they had to. The girl got the impression that none of her friends wanted to talk in front of their parents, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't want to say anything while their children were around. It was probably better that way, she thought. Given the opinions she remembered them expressing in the past, there were likely going to be some serious altercations in the near future. But the silence and waiting... oh, it was **dreadful**. Connie wanted nothing more than to get to her house so she'd have a chance to give the proper explanation they deserved.

Unfortunately, when the truck finally came to a halt and everyone disembarked, there was little peace to be had. Since Hermione was being held in the hospital wing until she woke up, aunt Syn led them there first. Inside, Edmund was waiting for them. The moment he saw he Connie, he rushed over and pulled her into a strong hug, giving her a good look over when he pulled away. After listening to her assurance that she was fine, he then turned his attention to the others. When he noticed Ginny favoring her left leg, held steady between the twins, he offered to have her ankle examined by one of the medical staff. Mrs. Weasley quickly informed him that she'd already taken care of it herself. From the shortness of her tone and the expression on her face, it was obvious the woman wasn't in the best of moods. Ed shot a reassuring look down at Constance, patted her gently on the back, then mentioned something about giving them the explanation he promised over the phone – along with a very large drink. Mr. Weasley readily accepted the offer, keeping his arm around his wife's shoulders as if to keep her somewhat calm for the talk to come.

As she watched the three adults step a little ways away, Connie noticed something. Her aunt was no longer with them. She must have run off somewhere pretty fast if she hadn't noticed her leave. It didn't take long to figure out where she had gone, either.

"Damn it, mother!" Mihnea's voice rang out from one of the examination rooms. "I said I'm **fine**!"

"You most certainly are not!" Syn exclaimed, sounding upset and worried. "Did that girl knock you in the head with a brick too? Sitting there looking half-dead saying 'I'm fine'. Have you **seen** your arm?"

"Jesus Christ, mom, I've been a little busy trying not to **feel** the damn thing to look at it!"

Harry's eyes went wide. "Whoa, is that Bassarab? He's in on this too?"

"His mom is that Newsom woman?" Ron squeaked.

The girl held up a hand to put them off. She was a little busy trying to figure out what was going on to pay attention to the boys.

"Miss Newsom, your son is too damn stubborn for his own good." A voice she recognized as belonging to one of the nurses proclaimed. "These are deep lacerations and there's severe nerve damage. He** needs **surgery."

"Like fucking **hell **I'm having surgery!" Mihnea shouted, suddenly angry. "Fuck no! Get out of the way, I'm leaving!"

"For God's sake, Mihnea, sit down before you pass out!" his mother said firmly. "You're not going anywhere. And **you**. Don't even think about mentioning surgery again."

"But, Miss Newsom!" the nurse protested. "He needs..."

"Don't tell me what my son **needs**, Janice. It would do more harm than good. Just... stitch up the arteries and staple the cuts closed. He should be able to heal the rest on his own with enough blood."

Connie stopped listening to the argument at that point. What in God's name had happened to Mihnea that was so bad they wanted to perform surgery? Forgetting that she was with others who probably didn't need to see what was going on, she pushed past them to run down the hall. When she reached the room all the voices were coming from, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared in shock at the scene before her eyes.

Mihnea sat in an examination chair in the center of the room with his left arm stretched out on a table to the side. The upper layers of his uniform had been stripped off to the white undershirt – which was soaked through with so much blood it could scarcely be called white any longer. It looked like he'd been cut up pretty bad. While the huge gashes in his arm were no longer bleeding freely from what she could see, he was noticeably pale and shaky. Of course, the shakiness could have been more from nerves. Mihnea had that overwhelming phobia of medical procedures, and the threat of surgery had him rattled. It appeared that the only thing that was keeping him from bolting was his mother's presence.

"Good God, Mihnea, what **happened** to you?" Constance exclaimed worriedly.

Her cousin lifted his head from where it had been resting on Syn's shoulder and his eyes snapped open. They were a deep, glowing red. When his lips parted to speak, she could make out the pointed length of fangs. Jesus, he was hurt bad if it was affecting him that much...

"Hermione fucking Granger is what happened." he said harshly. The sound of footsteps approaching made his eyes shoot toward the door, then back to her. "Don't you **dare** let them come in here, Connie." he said. "Not now."

_Hermione?_ She wondered. Hermione had done that to him? Her Hermione? There was no way! Though there was a bite to his tone, the girl recognized the brief flash in his eyes. He didn't want anyone else to see him the way he was. Though she didn't much like the idea of leaving him without knowing all the details, it would have to wait. Unfortunately, she couldn't move fast enough to prevent the group of wizards who had come running up behind her from catching a glimpse. Fred and Ron got there first, quickly followed by Harry and George- who was still half carrying his sister. They all went still when they saw the interior of that room and what was in it.

"What the...!" Ron began.

"Get **back**!" Connie shouted, shoving Ron and Fred backwards.

She quickly grabbed the handle of the door and snapped it shut behind her. However, that one, brief second of seeing her cousin looking inhuman was enough to open the floodgates.

"Was that your cousin?" Ginny asked, looking fearful and confused at the same time. "He's a **vampire**?"

Hell, there was no getting around it now. Constance took a deep breath. "He's half-vampire." she replied. "But..."

"**Half**?" Fred exclaimed, interrupting her. "How can someone be bleeding **half-**vampire? You either are, or you aren't!"

"All this business about Hellsings, Newsoms, you, and vampires coming after Harry... what the devil is going on Connie?" Ron demanded. "You're with these people?"

Harry was a teensy bit calmer than the others were, but only by a fraction. He looked more unnerved than actually afraid.

"Connie, this is **huge**." he said, shaking his head. "I mean... why didn't you tell anyone? You never said anything... not a word about... **any** of this."

Before she could open her mouth to respond, George cleared his throat.

"I knew." he said.

Fred's mouth fell open. "You **knew?**" he asked, looking back and forth between him and Constance with an expression akin to betrayal. "Damn it, I knew something weird was going on with you two! You've known the whole time and didn't say anything? To **me**, George? I'm your** twin brother!**"

"I didn't say anything because I promised her **and **her dad to keep it a secret!" he fired back. He then shot an almost accusing look at Constance. "You didn't tell me about Mihnea though."

"Because it wasn't my place to!" she said. "What Mihnea is has nothing at all to do with me. It's his choice who knows and who doesn't. If he wanted you to know, he would have told you himself."

"Yeah, but you told him about** you** though." Harry pointed out. "You could tell George but you couldn't tell the rest of us?"

"Damn it, I was told not to!" Connie exclaimed, getting frustrated and upset. This wasn't going anything like she wanted it to. And the betrayal on their faces... She could barely stand to see it. "I only told George because he practically broke into my room last time I was at the Burrow and refused to leave until I said something!"

"Told not to?" Ron repeated, looking disturbed. "Who said that, your parents? No good person would tell someone to lie to their friends over..."

Oh, that was **it.** Being upset, she could understand, but that was going too damn far. He didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Connie felt the last strings of her self control snap and anger flooded through her like a tidal wave.

"**Albus Dumbledore**, said that." she spat before he could finish. Once that name fell from her lips, everybody shut up and closed their mouths. "When Mihnea got his acceptance letter, Professor Dumbledore came here personally and told both of us that who we were had to be kept secret." her eyes narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips. "And you can say or think whatever you want, but I have **never **lied to you. I told you my parents worked for the government and there were things I couldn't talk about for security reasons. That was the truth. I told you there were things about me I didn't want you to know because it would make you see me differently, and that was the truth too. I know I've kept secrets from you and I'm sorry for that, but don't you **dare** call me a liar. You have no **idea** what I've been dealing with for the past three years. You don't know what it's like to be surrounded people who hate your guts when you cant say anything about it. How it feels to stay at a friend's house, knowing that the idea of your family makes them nervous and that their mother believes they're rotten and evil. If you're so smart, why don't you tell me how I should have done it? When? After listening to all of you talk about how my mother is a bloodthirsty killer with no conscious? Or maybe I should have waited until after the part where the Newsoms – who both my aunt and my father happen to be - were the masters of forbidden black magic who would sooner hex your balls off as look at you? Tell me. I really want to know. If it were you, what would you have done?"

She paused then to look around at all of them. No one was saying anything. It looked like she had touched a nerve and hit the most sensitive spot there was. Maybe she should have stopped there, but she had been holding too many things in for too long to keep them from pouring out.

"I didn't say anything to you guys about it, because I was afraid this would happen. I thought, maybe, if you knew me first, when it all came out you'd be able to look past what everyone else says and see things for how they really are. Maybe I didn't say anything because I wanted to protect you. Because if the wrong people found out and they knew you were my friends and knew who I was, they would make your lives a living hell. But that doesn't matter, does it? All that matters is that I'm related to the wrong people. How **dare** you get upset and bitch about people like Draco Malfoy, when you're doing the **same damn thing** he does?"

"Connie, it's not like that!" Harry began, but she held up a hand to cut him off.

"I'm not finished." she said, then pointed toward the door of the room Mihnea was in. "My cousin isn't fully human. He's scary, intimidating, and a member of the house at school that everyone hates. That's all you see. But what** I **see is that he saved my best friend's life and got badly hurt doing it. He'll probably carry the scars for the rest of his life. And tonight, at your house, I had to do something I didn't know I was capable of doing. When we were trapped and alone, I kept all of you alive until backup arrived. I killed two vampires by myself. It was my first time and there were no casualties. If it had been anyone else... any other mission, I would be able to come home and feel happy. Proud of accomplishing something I've been training for all my life. But I can't **do** that now, because I have to worry about you and what you think. I am **proud **of who I am. I'm proud of my family. If you don't like that, or them, you can go to hell. My horrible, rotten, evil family is the only reason any of you are alive right now and not a damn one of you is even going to say **thank you** for it! So you're welcome, for saving your lives. And good riddance."

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped off. In the back of her mind, there was a tiny voice telling her that she shouldn't have lashed out at them like that. But... damn it, they were being so** stupid**. All she wanted at the moment was to be left alone. Too many things had happened all at once, and it was overwhelming. Dealing with keeping them alive was stressful enough, but to have Ron Weasley call her a liar... It struck way too close to home. She... she **was** a liar – if only by omission. Perhaps that was why she was so upset. Whatever it was, she couldn't deal with all of it right now. She just wanted to curl up on her bed and stew and cry and be away from the world.

Behind her, she heard Ginny call out for her to stop, but she didn't. She even picked up the sound of George's angry voice telling Ron he was going to kick his ass for acting like a damn fool. She ignored that too. Constance just blocked everything out, and left.

* * *

><p>She didn't wind up staying alone for very long. George showed up at her bedroom door about an hour after the conflict downstairs. Apparently, her father had told him where she was. He looked rough and had a dark bruise on his jaw, like he'd been punched. The girl let him into her room, then went wide-eyed as he explained what happened.<p>

"**Fred** did that?" she demanded. "What did he hit you for? When did it happen?"

"A little after you left." George replied. "He was pissed about me not telling him anything. He's still a little miffed, but he got his hit in so he's not really mad anymore. I got him back, so no worries." He shifted and rubbed at the bruise. "I was aiming to hit the same place but he ducked, so I got him in the eye instead. It's kind of annoying because it's easy to tell us apart now. I was sort of looking forward to him getting the talking to from mom instead of me."

Connie's face fell and she slowly sank back against the couch they were sitting on, her eyes drifting toward the floor. She'd been worried about that. Of everyone, she knew that the revelation would hit Mrs. Weasley the hardest.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" she asked quietly.

"I don't want to talk about it." George said in a firm tone. "You don't need to know what she said."

That was probably the closest she would get to a 'yes'. She tried prodding at him a few more times, but he refused to give her any details. All he would say was that it had been heated, his mother had said some things that made him angry, and he told her to 'piss off' before he stormed out to find Constance. Just hearing that little bit was enough. George was right. She didn't need to know exactly what it had been about. Damn it, now she felt worse. That whole rant she'd had downstairs and now this...

"This is all my fault." she said, blinking to keep from crying in front of him. "You shouldn't be getting in trouble because of me..."

"Shut up, Connie." he said, shooting a look at her. "You haven't done anything wrong and it's not your fault."

It was easy to say that, but feeling it was an entirely different matter. The girl had to clench her hands into fists to keep from wringing them in nervousness.

"It **is.**" she insisted. "That's the reason why everyone is so upset, isn't it? Because we didn't tell anyone. And... damn it, George, you shouldn't be getting into fights with your brother! You and Fred never fight!"

"The hell we don't." he countered. "Me and Fred fight all the time. We just don't usually do it while other people are around. And this fight wasn't even about you. He hit me because I've been sneaking out at night for weeks to do those sorcery lessons without telling him what I was up to. That's what he was so pissed about."

Constance went still and stared at him in horror. "Jesus Christ, you told him that? Please tell me you didn't say that in front of your par..."

George gave her a look. "Do I look stupid?" he asked, cutting her off. "Mom and dad still don't know about that and it's going to stay that way. Only Fred and the others know. I figured if we were going to have a row, I might as well put everything out on the table to get it over and done with." he took a breath to calm himself, then put his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him. "And like I said, we both got our hits in, so it's done. Freddie never stays mad for long so stop worrying about it."

Stop worrying, he said. He made it sound so simple and easy. She dropped her head against his shoulder and huffed. But maybe he had a point. It was all out in the open now and all the fretting in the world wouldn't change it. The best thing to do was let it go and just hope it would turn out okay in the end.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about Mihnea." she said softly, not looking up at him.

She felt George shrug. "Don't be." he said. "You were right about it being his business. And I figure with as often as I've been alone with him, if he were dangerous he would have done something by now." he made a waving gesture with his hand. "Not a big deal."

Connie could have sighed in relief. He had no idea how refreshing it was to hear someone react so nonchalantly. Thank God she was dating the sensible brother.

"You didn't really kick Ron's ass, did you?" she mumbled, remembering hearing him say something about that as she left.

"Nah, but if he starts acting like a prat again, I will." George replied softly. He unfolded his legs and stretched them out on the couch so he could hold her more comfortably. "By the way, I know we have an anniversary tomorrow, but could we not do this again next year? It was kind of exciting and all, but I think the whole 'vampires breaking into my house and nearly killing my sister' thing is a little too much for me."

Connie had closed her eyes to help with pushing everything out of her mind, but his statement made them snap open again. She quickly sat up to blink at him. He was making a joke out of it. After everything that had just happened, he was still able to sit there and pretend it had been some sort of planned celebration. She wasn't sure why but her lips twitched, then slowly pulled into a smile. Then she started giggling. What started off as light and soft quickly spread through her entire body until she was in danger of falling off the couch onto the floor, she was laughing so hard. George just watched her sudden fit in amusement, like it had been his intention all along.

"I'll try." she said, trying to bring herself back under control. "But you know I like being spontaneous, so I make no promises."

That, in return, got a good laugh out of him. "Fair enough."

And suddenly, it was like there had never been any conflict in the first place. They were still able to laugh.

* * *

><p><em>Go to sleep.<em>

Those were the last words Hermione could recall. Everything after that was a deep pool of darkness. An unnatural state of unconsciousness that she had no power to resist. The voice itself sounded familiar, but she hadn't had any time to place it before the power of those words took hold of her. Strangely enough, the forced state of sleep wasn't uncomfortable. It was very safe there, wrapped in a mist that kept the world far, far away. It just wasn't... right. She didn't belong there. So once she felt the spell's sway begin to ebb and her strength return, Hermione attempted to push back the fog that clouded her head so she could get back to herself.

Waking up felt incredibly strange. When she first opened her eyes, the lights overhead were much too bright, forcing her to close them again. Sounds which should have been familiar were alien and confusing. A sense of deja vu struck her. She had experienced this before, hadn't she? Hermione couldn't recall exactly when, but she had definitely been in this position before... Yes, she remembered. That time she had woken up after the incident with the polyjuice potion. Only what she felt now was **much** more intense. The girl opened her eyes for a second time and forced them to remain that way so she'd get used to the brightness. Nothing looked familiar.

"Hermione?" a voice she recognized questioned. Without lifting her head from the pillow, she looked left and saw it was Harry. "You're awake!"

What on earth was Harry doing there? Ron, Ginny and... Fred were there too. All of them straightened in their seats at Harry's declaration and pushed themselves up to come closer.

"We've been so worried about you!" Ginny said, sitting down on the edge of the bed to give her a hug. "Everyone said you'd be fine, but no one knew when you would wake up..."

"Come on, Ginny, give her some room to breathe!" Ron said to his sister. He then looked at her in concern. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione blinked and pushed herself upright. "I feel okay..." she began, but paused as she took in the rest of her surroundings. Suddenly, she realized what this place reminded her of. "Is this... am I in a **hospital**? What are you guys doing here?" she focused on Fred. "And what happened to your eye?"

Fred instinctively reached up to touch the dark bruise on the left side of his face. "Pretty, isn't it? George gave it to me."

What the...? Before she could say anything, Harry cleared his throat.

"Hermione, you're not in a hospital." he told her. "We're..." He hesitated for a brief moment. "At Connie's house."

"Connie's house?" she repeated, confused. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

Ron looked really uncomfortable. "You don't... remember anything about last night?" he prodded gently, like he wasn't sure whether he should or not.

Hermione had never felt more out of sorts in her life. Was there something she wasn't remembering? Trying to push past the fog that was still present in her mind, the girl focused all her attention on figuring out what could have happened to land her in an unfamiliar place.

"I remember... waking up in the middle of the night." she began slowly, sifting through her memories as they came forward. "I heard one of the neighbors screaming. Our power was out so my dad went downstairs to get a torch and..."

Her words dropped off as other details suddenly hit her all at once. There had been vampires. They broke into her house and they... A strangled sob escaped her lips and her hands flew up to hide her face, overwhelmed by the horrifying memories that had sprung forth in her mind. The sounds of screaming and so much blood...

"Oh God, they killed them!" she said, feeling tears well up. "The vampires... they broke in and killed them! I couldn't... do anything..."

Ginny immediately leaned forward to pull her against her shoulder soothingly. As she petted at Hermione's hair, the girl could hear the boys going at each other.

"Good going, Ron." Fred said harshly. "That's the second time! Can't be around a girl longer than five minutes without sending them into hysterics, can you?"

"Will you shut up!" Ginny exclaimed, pulling away from the girl to glare at them before Ron had a chance to respond.

Hermione felt, rather than saw, Harry move to sit on the other side of her to put an arm around her shoulders. She didn't understand anything. Her parents **couldn't** be dead. She had just gotten back from school. The family skiing trip she had been so looking forward to... they were supposed to leave for it the next day. Now it would never happen. The girl immediately began pouring through all the decisions she had made since she began attending Hogwarts. She had never gone back home for the Easter holidays, thinking it wasn't a big deal. She had given up spending Christmas with her parents last year to stay at school... All of it was time lost. Time she would never get back. It wasn't **right.** She had been home for less than a day before her entire world was ripped away.

"They hit my house too." Harry told her quietly, giving her an understanding squeeze. "Aunt Petunia and Dudley weren't there, but uncle Vernon... he's gone."

_Oh no..._ she thought. They had gone to Harry's house too? Her head shot up as she remembered something else about the night before and she grabbed his arms.

"Harry, they were looking for you!" she said frantically. ""Those vampires at my house kept demanding to know where you were! I refused to tell them anything, but..."

"Yeah, we know." Fred said, interrupting her. "They came to our house too. Tore everything apart and dragged Ginny down through the floor. Said they'd kill her if we didn't hand Harry over."

Hermione's eyes went wide with shock and she turned to grab Ginny. "Oh my God! Are you okay?"

The girl's expression went blank at the memory, but she quickly shook it off. "I'm fine. My ankle was hurt, but mom fixed it."

Everyone then looked around at each other, determining exactly what to say and how. Hermione recognized their expressions as the one people get when they've just learned something incredibly important.

Ron shook his head and decided to speak first. "Bloody hell, Hermione, so much has been going on... We have **got** to talk."

Hermione sat and listened in stunned silence as they related the whole story to her. The Hellsing organization showing up at their house to evacuate them, and then the discoveries about Connie. She wasn't just related to the Hellsing family, she was the daughter of Sir Integral Hellsing herself; making her the family heir. Edmund Stryker - that likable man they'd all met that day in Diagon Alley – his mother had been a Newsom, giving her strong ties to that family as well. Then they told her about the vampire they had seen at their house and about Mihnea Bassarab being half-vampire, along with his mother being none other than the nahual, Syn Newsom. It was like every possible connection that could be made was present. It was positively shocking. And yet... it actually made sense. Constance never liked talking about her family and she always acted like she knew a lot more about things than she let on. And Bassarab... he had that unnerving habit of moving around without making a sound and could figure things out so fast... While she didn't like the idea of being left out of something so monumental, if what they were saying was true, it was no wonder the girl hadn't told them anything. This wasn't the sort of information any rational person would go around announcing to the magical world. It sounded like there was already a good bit of conflict swirling around it. Connie had gotten upset with all of them last night because of how they reacted and had run off. Then Fred and George got into a fistfight about him helping her keep secrets. Then George and his mother had an argument that angered him enough to make **him** leave, which then caused Mr. and Mrs. Weasley get into a row... It sounded like everyone was mad at everyone else for some reason or other.

"I can't believe you, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed upon hearing what he had said to Connie the night before. "You actually came out and called her a liar? What is **wrong** with you?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" he protested, but his face fell all the same. He knew full well he had made a mistake. "It was just a lot to take in all at once and it just sort of... slipped out." he shook his head and peered at her. "You can't sit there and say that her keeping quiet about all of this for so long doesn't bother you..."

"Well... yes, I'm a little put out that Connie didn't tell me." the girl admitted. "But I can understand why. Just think about it. Magical society has those secrecy laws to prevent muggles from finding out about them. The only reason those laws exist is because of all the witch trials that were held hundreds of years ago. Wizards know that most muggles would be afraid of magic because they don't understand it, so they **hide**. How many half-bloods at school have told stories about their parents getting into fights because one of them didn't say anything about being a witch or wizard until after the letter from Hogwarts came? Every last one of them. I don't see how what Constance and Mihnea did is any different."

It was also no different than Professor Lupin keeping the fact that he was a werewolf secret, Hermione thought to herself. Maybe that was why Connie had been so upset about Snape forcing her to answer his questions in class that day. It made perfect sense now. She would have understood the implications that such a revelation would have because she was in a similar situation. Oh... she had to go talk to her! All this business about the Hellsings, Newsoms, and vampires was huge, yes, but Hermione couldn't fathom how that made Connie a different person altogether. They were **friends**. If she were in the girl's shoes, she would probably be holed up somewhere worried sick that everyone would abandon her over something like this. Constance never dropped anyone she cared about no matter what she learned about them, so they needed to go show her that they would do the same. And, damn it, if Ron didn't apologize for being a stupid prat, Hermione would never forgive him.

Unfortunately, since she was essentially in a 'hospital wing' of sorts, there was no way she could leave as she would have liked. Whoever was in charge of her care would have to clear it first. Fred volunteered to step out and hunt down a nurse or some other person who worked there. After a few minutes, he came back with a tall, dark haired man who introduced himself as Dr. Crayson. He was a friendly sort of person who seemed to understand her desire to leave. After checking her vital signs and giving her a thorough examination, he declared that there was no reason to keep her there. But rather than simply leaving it at that, he went on to give them piece of surprising information.

"Sir Integra wished for you to be left alone while you were recovering." he said, looking around at all of them. "But now that you're awake, I imagine she'll want to speak to you."

Ron's eyes went wide. "S...sir Integra?"

Harry frowned. "But I thought Connie's dad said she wasn't here?"

The man let out a good natured chuckle. "She was away at a conference in Spain, but she decided to cut it short and leave early when she found out about what was happening here. I believe she arrived a couple of hours ago." he replied. He gave all of them a reassuring look. "I don't know what you've been told about Sir Hellsing, but you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I've been working here since right after the Great War, and I've always found her to be a very serious, but **fair** woman. You've been invited to join her and the rest of the family for supper." he paused and slid his stethoscope back around his neck as he turned back to Hermione. "You need to try to eat something, Miss Granger. You've been unconscious for nearly a day and getting some food into your system is the best thing for you right now. Take it slow for a while and if you notice feeling anything unusual, you need to let someone know, alright?"

The girl nodded in somber understanding. She couldn't recall the last time she had eaten something, so the idea of any kind of meal was welcome. Before he left, he pointed out a bag sitting in the corner of the room next to a table. Hermione hadn't noticed it before.

"I believe that was brought from your house so you would have some of your own clothes to wear." he told her. "Once you're changed, a maid will take you upstairs to get you settled into your room, then she'll take all of you to the dining room so you wont have to worry about getting lost."

With that, he stepped through the door and pulled it closed behind him, leaving them alone again. Hermione immediately recognized the duffel on the floor as the one she had packed for the skiing trip. The sight of it sitting there looking so normal was oddly... unsettling. She honestly had no desire to touch it, fearing it would dredge up too many memories. But the fact was that she was still wearing her pajamas from the night before and she really needed to change. She would have to just buck up and do it. The boys and Ginny all stepped outside to give her some time alone. Hermione rifled through the bag as quickly as possible, picking out a pair of jeans and a nice light green jumper. Everything else she ignored. It was too painful to think about the reason why they had been packed up.

When she was finished changing and had pulled on a pair of shoes, Hermione picked up the bag and headed out to join the others. A young woman with russet colored hair and wearing a dark blue dress was waiting to take them upstairs. She introduced herself as Samantha and she immediately took the duffel away from Hermione. The girl attempted to wave her off and explain that she could carry her own things, but the woman wouldn't hear any of it. They were guests, she said, and there was no good reason for her to be worried about luggage after just waking up from such an ordeal.

Since the walk up to the rooms on the second floor of the manor was a long one, the wizards kept themselves occupied by looking around at everything. The others had seen everything the night before and during their earlier trek down to the medical wing, but this was Hermione's first glimpse of what the house looked like. When the industrial concrete and metal railing of the barracks gave way to crown molding and Persian rugs laid over warm colored wood floors, the girl couldn't help but be stunned by the simple beauty of it. This was obviously the home of an aristocratic family that took pride in their rich history. Yet, nothing she saw really gave the impression of being overbearing or obnoxious. There was a sense of restraint present. Like everything displayed had been earned and wasn't merely being shown off because it could be. The walls of the hallways were a pristine shade of creamy white and were dotted with paintings of landscapes and exquisitely crafted portraits. Some were of historical figures that must have been associated with the Hellsing family. Others bore small metal plaques beneath them, identifying them as ancestors. If time had allowed, Hermione would have liked to just slowly walk through to absorb everything. There was just as much history and knowledge to be found in this place as any museum... But that urge would have to be fulfilled at a later time.

It appeared that the Weasleys and Harry had all been given a set of rooms that were close together. Probably so they would be able to easily find each other without having to wander down endless corridors, Hermione thought. Her room followed the same pattern. It was located right next to the ones used by Ginny and her parents, while Harry, Ron, and the twins had rooms directly across the hall. The door to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room was open and it seemed that they heard their approach. As Samantha was pushing open the door to the room assigned to Hermione, Mrs. Weasley glanced out the doorway, then came out to see them. She immediately pulled Hermione into a warm, comforting hug.

"Oh, Hermione dear, we've all been so worried about you!" she said, pulling back to press a hand against the side her face. "We heard about what happened. If you ever need **anything**, we'll be there for you. Anything at all."

The girl truly appreciated it, but the words stung. She was still trying to process everything that was going on, and another reminder that her family was gone struck her to the core. She quickly nodded and blinked to prevent tears from welling up.

"Thank you." she said sincerely.

Behind the woman, Mr. Weasley had stepped out of their room as well. He greeted Hermione in a similar fashion as his wife, giving her an understanding pat on the shoulder before turning to his children.

"Any sign of George yet?" he asked.

Fred, Ron, and Ginny all shared a look amongst themselves. "We haven't seen him." Fred replied. "We figure he'll be wherever Connie is."

Hermione noticed Mrs. Weasley make a face at his pronouncement. Almost like a sign of disapproval that she didn't want to fully show in front of her children. It made her heart sink in her chest a bit. Surely, with all she had seen of Constance, her whole idea of her wouldn't change overnight, would it? George's mother loved Connie to pieces!

The maid had gone inside of the room to put down Hermione's bag, but she came back out when she heard what they were talking about.

"There's no need to worry about your son." she told them. "He and Miss Constance are already downstairs and he's been getting along with everyone famously from what I've seen."

The parents looked reassured that someone actually knew where he was. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat.

"Where on earth did he stay last night?" she questioned. "None of us saw him again after he ran off..."

Samantha gave her a small smile of understanding. "I believe he slept in Miss Constance's room. And not to worry." she went on with upheld hands, seeing the sudden shift of expression on the woman's face. "The young very mistress has a very comfortable sofa in her room. I took some blankets and a pillow to set him up to sleep there, and the door was left open all night. Master Mihnea's room is only a few doors down from Miss Constance and he is extremely protective of her. There was no funny business."

Mrs. Weasley didn't look the least bit happy about that, but there was nothing that could be done about it. The young woman then gestured for Hermione to come inside to inspect the room. The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of it. It was positively **massive** compared to what she was used to. Even the dorm rooms at Hogwarts weren't so large, and they served four students at a time. An elegantly carved four poster bed was situated against one wall, and there was a matching desk, wardrobe, and set of shelves for her use. A huge picture window hung with heavy rose colored drapes appeared to lead out to a balcony. With the weather as cold as it was, Hermione couldn't imagine ever using it, but it provided a stunning view. There was also a sizable fireplace directly across from the bed to provide warmth and ambient light once it started getting dark.

"It's beautiful..." she whispered, peering around at everything. "And **big**." she turned to glance at the maid. "All of this is for me?"

"Of course, Miss." Samantha replied with a gentle smile. "One thing Sir Integra is known for is taking very good care of her house guests." she gestured toward a door on the left side of the fireplace. "You have a full bathroom all to yourself. There's a hamper in there to put any used towels or clothes you need laundered. I'm usually responsible for this part of the house but if I'm not around for any reason, one of the other maids will take care of that for you and have them back by the end of the day. And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

_Wow..._ Hermione thought. This was almost like staying in a fancy hotel or something. She thanked the woman, then Samantha turned to address them as a group.

"Now then, if you're all ready, I'll escort you downstairs for supper." she said. "Sir Integra has been eager to meet you."

* * *

><p>The journey back down to the main floor of the manor further emphasized the scale and grandeur of the house. The whole way, Hermione found herself wondering how anyone could be in such a place for any length of time and not get hopelessly lost. But then, she supposed that actually living there made a difference. She recalled that Connie had taken to moving about Hogwarts more quickly than most of the other students did first year, and now she understood why.<p>

When they finally arrived outside the dining room, they all could hear the sound of conversation coming from within. The normal banter of a family sitting down together for a meal. When they entered, they found themselves inside of a large rectangular room with a long dining table perched in the center. Five people were clustered together in seats at one end. Connie was sitting with George on one side, while across from them – their backs to the door – was her father, Edmund, and a shorter woman with the most vivid shade of red hair Hermione had ever seen on a person before. Then, sitting at the head of the table was a woman in a dark colored trousers and a long sleeved button down shirt. It looked almost like she normally wore business suits, but had taken the jacket off for comfort's sake. Platinum blonde hair spilled across her shoulders clean down to her waist. Samantha cleared her throat to announce their presence.

"Your guests, Sir Integra."

Everyone at the table sat up straighter and looked over at them. Both Edmund and the redhead next to him turned in their seats to get a look. The sight of her bright and bordering on unnatural green eyes confirmed Hermione's suspicion that she was Syn Newsom. She was surprisingly lovely and youthful looking, considering how old she supposedly was. When the blonde woman turned her face in their direction, the girl was taken aback to see that there was a dark colored patch covering her left eye. Everyone except Mr. Weasley seemed a bit astonished by that as well. He must have recognized her from the last time he had seen her.

"Ah, very good." she said. She made a sweeping gesture of invitation. "Please, join us."

Samantha gave her a respectful curtsy and turned to leave, while everyone else came forward to pick out seats around the table. Hermione couldn't help but notice that Fred deliberately sat down next to his twin, as if to put more space between him and their mother, whom he appeared to still be upset with. Constance glanced around at everyone cautiously, then leaned forward to look down at her.

"How are you?" she asked quietly, looking a bit nervous. "I wanted to come to see you, but I didn't know how it would go..." she paused to glance meaningfully at the others.

Hermione recognized where her comment was going. "It's fine." she said before she could finish. She gave her a reassuring look, hoping she would be able to discern that she understood. "They told me about what happened."

Constance bit down on her lower lip and nodded. They would talk later. She sat back in her chair and went back to poking at the roast beef and selection of vegetables on her plate.

The woman at the head of the table – who had to be Sir Integra – watched their small exchange, then cleared her throat. "I was sorry to hear about what all of you went through last night, and I regret we had to meet under these circumstances." she told them in a sincere sounding voice. "I was out of the country at the time these attacks took place, but I have been briefed on what happened and I can assure you that we will do everything in our power to ensure the safety of your family, as well as Mr. Potter and Miss Granger." she paused half a moment to glance in George's direction. "I also couldn't help but notice that there has been some conflict going on. I'm not usually one to get involved in the personal matters of others, but I do hope that we will be able to set aside any differences that exist between us. For the sake of our children, if nothing else."

From her very specific expression, Hermione gathered that she was referring to the fact that both Fred and George had obviously been in a fist fight. Fred noticed as well. He made a face, then slowly raised his hand.

"If you're talking about him, that was all me." he said, jerking a thumb toward his brother. "And he totally deserved it."

George sniffed. "Yeah, and you deserved what you got back."

"Boys..." Mr. Weasley began with a note of warning in his voice. He shook his head and turned toward the knight. "I'm sorry about that, Sir Hellsing. I think all of us have been... worn ragged by this whole mess. They wont be fighting any more."

Sir Integra made a small wave of her hand. "There's no need to apologize. I deal with my soldiers on a regular basis, so I'm well aware of the male proclivity for getting into fights. However, I've always understood a punch to the face to be a sign of something serious." she looked at the twins. "The issue has been rectified, I hope?"

They both nodded. "It has." they said together.

"Good." she replied with a small note of approval.

The woman then sat a bit straighter and clasped her hands together on top of the table. "Now then, I know you've all been through quite the ordeal and all of this must be overwhelming, but there are a few things we need to work out as quickly as possible. I thought it would be best to have a discussion with all of you present so that we're on the same page about what is going to happen."

Mrs. Weasley looked incredibly uncomfortable by the statement. She shifted in her seat and leaned forward to peer down the table. "No offense to you, Sir Hellsing, but if it's something important we're going to be talking about, then I would rather the children not be here. They don't need to be put in the middle of something like this..."

Sir Integra slowly arched a brow. "I'm afraid they're already 'in the middle of it', as you say. Of course, if you wish for your children to be left out that's your decision to make, but there are some issues directly affecting Mr. Potter and Miss Granger which I must speak to them about. It has been my experience that things of this nature tend to go more smoothly when there are friends around to provide some support."

It was thoughtful of her to take that into consideration, Hermione mused. She didn't know about Harry, but she personally felt more secure knowing that her friends were around as opposed to her being isolated with a bunch of people she didn't know. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shared a considering look between themselves. The older woman pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded – a silent sign that they had reached an agreement on the matter.

"The children wont be leaving." Mr. Weasley announced.

The knight inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Very well." she said, then her tone shifted to become more businesslike. "Concerning your family specifically, I contacted the Prime Minister's office to inform him of the attack made on your home. He will see to it that the Ministry of Magic is filled in, and I imagine we'll have to meet with one of their representatives on the matter. You should be aware that when this meeting takes place, I am going to insist that all of you remain in our custody until the Ministry sends someone to your house to ward it against any further attacks."

"**Custody**?" Harry questioned, his eyes widening.

"You mean like prisoners?" Ron asked.

Connie's dad shook his head. "Certainly not." he replied. "All it means is that you'll be staying here so that we can ensure your protection. We don't want you to feel trapped here, but we have to play it safe."

Sir Integra nodded in agreement. "You must understand, vampires who attack people for a specific purpose aren't easily dissuaded. If they were looking to capture Mr. Potter, you can be sure they will try again. I'm not one to rescue someone only to turn around and throw them back to the wolves." she paused half a moment and gestured to the two adults sitting closest to her. "Of course, both Edmund and Syn are perfectly capable of placing these protective enchantments themselves but due to my daughter using his name for school, we cant allow the Ministry to catch on to my husband's attachment to Hellsing. And I'm not foolish enough to believe that anyone in your world would trust Syn to actually protect your home with her... **unique** brand of magic. We're on uneasy footing with the Ministry of Magic as it is, and I want to avoid any unnecessary conflict with them if at all possible."

Down the table, Mr. Weasley appeared thoughtful. He actually worked at the Ministry of Magic, so he understood how things worked there better than anyone else did.

"We understand." he told her, his brows furrowing. "It might take them a while to send someone out to do that, though. The Ministry is always short staffed during the holidays..."

"That's not a problem. You can stay here for as long as it takes." the knight told them. "I also understand that your home sustained a great deal of damage. Since Hellsing is partially responsible for that, you wont have to worry about paying for repairs. I'll make sure the expenses are taken care of."

Again, her thoughtfulness was surprising. In the stories spread around the magical and muggle worlds alike, no one ever mentioned generosity as being one of Hellsing's 'virtues'. With that out of the way, Sir Integra then turned her attention onto Harry.

"You're Harry Potter, I presume?" she questioned.

Harry gave a start at being addressed directly and nodded. "Yes ma'am." he said. His face then went a shade pale and he hesitated, like he thought he had made a mistake. "Or... is it 'sir' or 'ma'am'?"

The woman shot an glance at her husband and the redhead then looked back with a small smile of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm normally referred to as 'sir' due to my title, but under the circumstances I don't see any need to get hung up on formalities. Either one is fine." she told him, then began more serious. "Mr. Potter, I am sorry about the death of your uncle. However, you should know that we found your aunt and your cousin at the location you provided to Miss Newsom. They are both alive and well. We sent a small group to keep them under surveillance for the time being."

That was a small piece of good news, at least. Hermione watched as Harry let out a long stream of air.

"Do they know?" he asked carefully. "About what happened?"

"Not yet." she replied. "We thought it would be best to get this mess sorted out first before adding to it. I will send a representative from us first thing in the morning to let them know." she paused with a glint of understanding in her visible eye. "As far as your family is concerned, they'll be told this attack was random and your uncle happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I understand your living situation is problematic so to speak, and I don't want to give your relatives any room to place the blame on you."

Harry blinked at her, then his expression shifted to one of relief. He had already been thinking about that. "Thank you." he said, genuinely meaning it.

The knight inclined her head in acknowledgment. "I have heard that it would be impossible for you to leave your aunt's custody without breaking breaking the magical protection provided by your mother. However, it is obvious that either this protection applies only to you and not the rest of your household, or it isn't effective against vampires. To prevent something like this happening again, Syn or Edmund will be going to your house sometime before you return there to place accessory enchantments that will further protect your family."

Harry sat back a bit in his chair, surprised about the depth of their knowledge about his situation. He shot a small, questioning glance toward Constance.

"I guess Connie told you guys about them, huh?" he asked.

Sir Integra's lips turned upwards ever so slightly. "Not in so many words, but one can't help but hear interesting things mentioned over the dinner table." she replied. "After the events that took place during your first year at school, Professor Dumbledore consulted with us about the strength of the magical protection you have against Voldemort."

"Whoa!" Fred and George exclaimed, going wide eyed. "You guys have been talking to Dumbledore?"

Hermione noticed George looking at Connie in surprise, which she responded to with a shake of her head and a quiet 'I knew they were talking, but not what it was about'. She had always thought that Dumbledore was an expert in all sorts of magic! She couldn't fathom why he would turn to a muggle organization for a consult on something.

Next to Edmund, Syn cleared her throat to speak up for the first time since the meeting began. "After Voldemort..."

Everyone winced at the sound of that word. "Don't say his name!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley proclaimed in unison.

The woman paused and quirked a brow. "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." she said. "The guy would be a lot less scary if you stopped with that ridiculous 'You-Know-Who' business." she shook her head, giving the impression of someone who was mildly irritated by another's ignorance of something simple, and turned back to Harry. "Anyway, after **Voldemort** got so close to you during your first year at school, Professor Dumbledore was understandably concerned. Since the protection provided by your mother stems from sorcery, he discussed your situation with Ed and I..."

"Sorcery?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in confusion. "Lily Potter? I'd be the first to admit that I didn't know her well, but she was no sorceress!"

Syn gave her a look. "I never said that she was. But, it is entirely possible for a very powerful witch or wizard to perform rudimentary sorcery without intending to – **especially** when they are in a very traumatic situation or high emotional state. Obviously, none of us were there that night, but I believe that a mother confronted with the impending death of her infant child falls into that category, regardless of what specifically happened. Witchcraft isn't capable of the sort of complexity found in this situation. If it were, then every witch or wizard who had a parent die protecting them would have the same degree of protection that he has. It is an extremely rare magical effect to find in your world." her vivid green eyes narrowed a hair. "And you don't have to say the word 'sorcery' like it's a curse. Your lack of understanding doesn't make it evil. If it weren't for sorcery, not a damn one of you people would be able to use your magic and that's a fact."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, taking offense. "What sort of rubbish is tha..."

"You all use wands, don't you?" Syn countered before she could finish. "It's an accepted fact in your world that the wand **chooses** the wizard, not the other way around. A wand is an inanimate object imbued with a level of intelligence and discernment which allows it to make decisions for itself without human influence. There is no level of witchcraft on this earth capable of producing something with a mind of it's own. Only sorcery is powerful enough to do that. You people just refuse to call it what it is because your magic is too difficult to control without a wand, and admitting that you need sorcery to make them is too scary. It probably gives the wandmakers in your world the upper hand as well, since they don't have to worry about ordinary people catching on to what they're actually doing and infringing on their business."

Everyone stared at her in astonishment. Hermione had never once considered that was where wands came from but... thinking about it, it **did** make sense. She remembered thinking that Mr. Olivander must have been teetering on the boundaries of madness with how he talked about his wands like they were alive. Maybe he wasn't so eccentric after all.

After watching their now thoughtful expressions for a moment, Sir Integra cleared her throat. "While all of this is very interesting, I'm afraid we still have some business to attend to." she turned her gaze onto Hermione. "Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione shook herself out of her musings and sat up straighter. Given the situation, she could imagine this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. "Yes, ma'am."

The knight interlaced her fingers together in front of her, while her visible eye softened with an expression akin to understanding. "Miss Granger, I understand that you have been through an incredibly difficult ordeal. The death of one parent, much less two, is no easy thing and you have my sincere condolences. Unfortunately, the world we live in doesn't allow much time for processing and grief. I'm sorry that there isn't a better way to handle this, but I must ask you: do you have any relatives you could go to live with?"

A deep, unnerving weight settled in the pit of the girl's stomach. She would really never go back home, would she? Trying to push back the wave of emotion she felt so she'd be able to think, she took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I... have some cousins in France." she replied, her voice breaking more than she liked. "But I've only seen them a few times and I don't know them very well..."

Sir Integra frowned thoughtfully. "I see." she said. Her lips pressed together in a thin line of consideration. "I'm afraid, Miss Granger, that your being a witch places you in a unique situation. Since you are already integrated with magical society, your case falls under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic." her gaze turned toward Mr. Weasley. "I have no knowledge of the Ministry's protocols for something like this. Do you know what her options are?"

The man sat back in his chair with a furrowed brow. He didn't look happy about what he was going to say. "Hermione, I **highly** recommend going to live with family if you could." he said, turning to look at her directly. "There are group homes for magical children who have been orphaned, but it is very unusual for a muggle born to be placed in one. The general consensus at the Ministry is that children who grew up in a muggle environment are better suited for a muggle orphanage. I've never seen one so I don't know what they're like."

Connie's father sniffed in disapproval. "They're awful places." he declared. "Not from lack of trying, but they're overcrowded with kids from bad environments and they don't get enough funding to employ the amount of people they really need."

Syn nodded somberly in agreement. "I was lucky enough to avoid them, but Seras was placed in an orphanage when her parents died. She said those were the worst years of her life."

Hermione's eyes turned down toward the table. She herself had never heard of a good orphanage for all the reasons that Edmund stated. But Hogwarts only took students from the United Kingdom. If she moved out of the country, she'd have to transfer to another school. Oh God, how terrible would that be? She'd already lost so much so quickly, she couldn't stand the thought of losing all of her friends too...

"I... I don't know..." she began, feeling tears well up against her will. She gave her head a violent shake. "Hogwarts is all I have left now... I just can't leave!"

"And you shouldn't have to." Mrs. Weasley stated in that voice she got when she had made up her mind and wasn't going to be argued with. "And you're absolutely **not **going to one of those awful orphanages! You can come live with us. Can't she, Arthur?"

For a brief moment, the man blinked, then nodded in full agreement. "Absolutely, she can live with us!"

Hermione's head shot up and her wet eyes widened with shock. _Do what?_ "Oh, no!" she said, shaking her head. "I couldn't do that! You have enough to deal with as it is without me adding to it!"

"Oh hush." Mrs. Weasley said, waving her off. "We're used to having a house full, so adding one more would be no trouble. Besides, it would be good for Ginny to have another girl around." she peered down the table at her daughter. "You wouldn't mind having Hermione stay in the room across from yours, would you dear?"

Ginny immediately shook her head. "Of course not! I'd love it!" she whirled around in her seat to grab at Hermione's hand. "Please come live with us! It's **awful** having nothing but boys around. It would be great! Please?"

"Come on, Hermione." Ron pleaded, joining in. "You know you're already as good as family. Harry practically moves in with us during the summer, so we'd always be together!"

Hermione wasn't really sure what to say. She hadn't intended for something like this to happen, but the offer was incredibly touching. She bit back the sudden well of emotion she felt at being so warmly welcomed. It was like they couldn't imagine any other option for her.

"You'd... really do that for me?" she asked with a sniffle.

Fred and George looked at each other. "Like we'd let you live out on a street somewhere?" they scoffed together. "Honestly Granger, you're supposed to be the smart one of the bunch!"

That got a small laugh out of her. This was real, wasn't it? They were truly willing to take her in. Seeing the expectant looks on everyone's faces, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay." she said. "I'd... like to do that."

Ginny let out a restrained squeal of excitement and moved to pull her into another of her hugs. Meanwhile, in the background, Hermione caught faint traces of the conversation between Mr. Weasley and Sir Integra. The knight was making sure that them taking her in a ward was feasible and that he could get the paperwork for it done without any trouble. Mr. Weasley told her that he would have to talk to a few of his contacts to get it pushed through before the holidays were over, but otherwise it wouldn't be a problem.

When Ginny and her brothers finally got through with their welcoming embraces, Syn was looking over at them with a small smile.

"By the way, Miss Granger, I should probably tell you that your cat is here." she told her.

The girl's eyes widened. "Crookshanks?" she asked, not daring to believe it. "He's **here? **But... how?"

The woman's smile grew a bit wider. "My son brought him along when he got you out of your house." she explained. "We would have let him stay down in the medical wing with you, but the staff doesn't allow animals down there if they can help it. Mihnea has been keeping him up in his room."

Connie's dad arched a brow. "How's Pixie taking that?"

Syn sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Last I heard she was throwing a god awful fit about it." she replied. She paused to fill the others in on what she meant. "My son's cat is used to being the queen of the castle, so she's not happy about having to share all her stuff. She'll get over it."

Hermione felt an overwhelming rush of relief and thankfulness at the knowledge that Crookshanks was alive. Maybe not everything had been lost. She still had her pet. But something else pushed itself to the front of her mind and gave her serious pause.

"Wait. You said... Bassarab was the one who got me out of my house?" she questioned.

The woman nodded. "We were short staffed at the time and since we were dealing with three attacks at once, he volunteered to go out."

Thoughts began rushing through the girl's brain so fast that she only vaguely heard the sound of Mrs. Weasley questioning the logic of a woman who allowed something so dangerous. She was busy putting pieces together. She had heard a voice before she fell unconscious. A voice she recognized, but couldn't place at the time. Suddenly, she knew where she had heard it before. It **had** been him at her house! And she had...

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, bringing the other conversations to a screeching halt. Her hands planted themselves on the table and she leaned forward with a horrified expression on her face. "I didn't know who he was! All I saw were these glowing red eyes and I thought it was one of the vampires coming back... oh, is he okay?"

The younger people sitting around her blinked in confusion, then put together what she was so upset about.

"Wait a minute." Harry said, studying her. "Is he okay? Did you...?"

"Guys..." Connie interjected, only to be cut off by a surprised exclamation from Fred. He seemed to have figured it out.

"Sweet Merlin's baggy y-fronts, Granger, it that was **you**?" he asked, staring at her open-mouthed. "We only got a quick look at him when we got here, but Bassarab looked like death warmed over! There was blood everywhere! We thought he got into a fight with a vampire or something!"

On the other side of George, Connie shot him a harsh look. "You weren't supposed to see that."

Oh God, they made it sound bad. Hermione couldn't believe it. What on earth had she done? The details were fuzzy, but she distinctly recalled the feeling of being afraid for her life and hiding in her pantry with a knife. If she had known... How could she have hurt someone who had been trying to help her? And now she was sitting at a table with Mihnea's family... His mother was sitting right across from her, for God's sake! How was she supposed to look her in the face after doing something so terrible?

"I am **so** sorry." she told her as sincerely as she possibly could. "I didn't know who he was... if I had known I swear I wouldn't have hurt him..."

The redhead's face twisted into a pained expression, and she lifted her hands to wave at her.

"Oh, no, no, no, baby, don't do that." she said in a soft, comforting tone. "Calm down. You were defending yourself and that's **exactly** what you were supposed to do. No one is upset or angry about that." she pressed her lips together in an understanding frown. "One of the things you have to understand about Mihnea is that he's a lot like his father. He has an annoying habit of believing he's invincible when he's not. He all but admitted to me when he got back with you that he didn't announce himself like he should have and the whole thing was mostly his fault. Considering what was going on when he got to your house, there is no way you could have known who he was by looking. Trust me, I've been around him his entire life, and I know how scary he looks when he's mad. If it had been me in that situation, I would have done the exact same thing. It's okay."

Even though she still felt awful about it, Hermione was somewhat comforted by the fact that she wasn't going to have to deal with an angry parent. As she was debating the wisdom of prodding more about how much damage she had done, Mrs. Weasley couldn't seem to restrain herself.

"I still don't understand what sort of mother would force her child to go off hunting vampires on his own like that." she commented with a sniff of disapproval. "And isn't Mihnea Bassarab in the same year as Fred and George? You don't look **nearly** old enough to have a son that age."

Mr. Weasley sensed the beginning of an argument. "Molly, don't start this again."

Meanwhile, the redhead had turned her full attention onto her with a deep scowl of dislike. "I'm thirty-seven, thank you very much." she declared forcefully. "And I have **never** forced my son to do anything. He goes out on missions because its what he wants to do and he never goes out alone. There was an entire garrison of soldiers with him last night. Now this might come as a shock, but **some** of us don't have the privilege of pretending that the world is a nice, happy place where bad things never happen. At least **I** know that when Mihnea finds himself in the middle of a deadly situation, he'll be able to fight his way out of it on his own without having to hide behind a thirteen year old girl like a damn coward."

Constance's mouth dropped open. "Aunt Syn!"

Everyone pressed themselves as far back into their seats as possible. There was so much tension pouring off of the two women that the air seemed to sizzle with the intensity. Neither of them had raised their voice yet, but it was easy to imagine that if one of them did, something would wind up exploding.

"Miss Newsom, I believe I gave you fair warning before our guests came downstairs." Sir Integra said, slicing through the tension like a knife. It was an icy tone that left no room for argument. She lifted her hand and extended a finger toward the door. "It will be getting dark soon. Go keep Alucard occupied so that he doesn't disturb anyone tonight."

Syn tore her hard gaze away from Mrs. Weasley to blink at her. "Sir?"

"You heard me." the knight told her. Her good eye narrowed in warning. "**Leave.** That's an order."

The redhead stared at her for a long moment, then pressed her lips together and pushed her chair back from the table. Connie's dad turned to whisper something to her, then shook his head and sighed deeply once she was gone.

"You'll have to forgive her." he told them. "Syn is stubborn and opinionated, but she really is very sweet once you get to know her. She's just... defensive."

"You call that defensive?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, appearing stunned. "No offense, but she acts like she hates wizards!"

George, who along with Connie had pretty much stayed out of the entire conversation, paused in chewing his food. "She's been nice to **me**." he said. "I think she's awesome." he gave Fred a small nudge to the ribs and lowered his voice so the adults wouldn't hear. "Said she'd hook us up with some different types of gunpowder to play around with."

That got Fred's attention and the two of them immediately began whispering back and forth to each other about it. Edmund shook his head at them then went back to the parents.

"I wouldn't say she hates wizards." he said. "But she does have a... strong dislike of the magical world in general." he shrugged. "I'd be lying if I said there weren't things about it I didn't like either, but I'm able to get around the rules a little. Syn can't. When the first reaction a person has when they see you is fear, it affects you. I promise, she's trying."

Mr. Weasley leaned over to whisper something quietly in his wife's ear – probably an attempt to get her to settle down, no doubt – then straightened and cleared his throat.

"Who is this... Alucard, did you say?"

"He's the master vampire of the Hellsing Organization." Sir Integra said informatively.

It was the first confirmation of the presence of vampires any of them had heard from them, so it got everyone's attention. The twins stopped talking and sat up straight.

"Wait, there's another one?" Fred asked with a blink. "How many vampires do you guys have here anyway?"

"Three." Connie's dad replied. "Alucard's the only one you might need to keep an eye out for. He has a thing for messing with people for the fun of it. Seras and Pip are his fledglings and both of them are very friendly. You'd never have to worry about either of them."

Harry frowned, like the gears inside his head were turning at a rapid pace. "Those names sound familiar..." he said slowly. "Wasn't..." he looked around at all the Weasleys. "Didn't Miss Newsom call that blonde vampire at your house Seras?"

"That's right, she did!" Ginny chimed in. "But... I swear I've heard that other name somewhere too..."

Constance coughed meaningfully. "You guys met Pip. He's the one who picked Mihnea up from the train station."

Everyone stopped to stare at her. "No bleeding way!" Ron exclaimed. "That guy was a **vampire**? You said he was Bassarab's brother-in-law!"

"He **is**." the girl shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Fred shook his head. "But that's not possible is it? Vampires can't go out into the sun and that man we saw was out in the middle of the day! We talked about vampires in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that's one of the things Professor Lupin kept going on and on about."

The knight at the head of the table let out a small laugh. "It is dangerous to assume things when it comes to vampires." she commented. "The vampires who work here all come from a special bloodline which gives them strengths and abilities other vampires don't have."

While everyone else descended into questioning and bickering about these impossible things they were claiming, Hermione found herself focused on something else. Something about this new information had pricked the interest of her logical side. A thousand different puzzle pieces were strewn about, just begging to be pieced together. Small things – things that had always been there, but she'd never paid much attention to – suddenly grew importance. Then, when the pieces finally slid into place, her eyes went wide in realization.

"Wait a minute!" she said loudly, holding up her hands to get everyone to quiet down. She shot a look down the table at Sir Integra, searching for some sort of answer to her question. "Count Dracula isn't dead, is he? He's** here**."

"Do what, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked in confusion.

Mrs. Weasley gave her an odd sort of look, then the expression shifted to one of concern. "All this stress must be wearing her out, poor thing." she reached past Ginny to pat at her hand. "Don't let all this business about vampires get to you, dear. That vampire has been dead and gone for more than a century now, so don't you worry. Maybe you should go lay down..."

The girl shook her head resolutely. "No, I'm not tired or confused!" she insisted, pulling away from her. She looked back down at the knight. "There are three vampires here, two males and one female. If Pip Bernadette is Mihnea's brother-in-law, then that must mean the other is his father. I never paid any attention to it before, but 'Bassarab' is the name of the royal dynasty of Wallachia that Count Dracula was born into. The name 'Alucard' is just 'Dracula' written backwards. So that means..." she paused to swallow. "Abraham VanHelsing never killed Dracula. He's still alive, and... Mihnea Bassarab is his son."

The Weasleys and Harry all gaped at her like they thought she might have lost her mind. George, though, seemed to realize that she might be onto something and turned to Connie with a silent question in his eyes. She mouthed something to him that made his eyes go wide. But it didn't really matter how crazy the others thought it was. The looks on the faces of Constance's parents was confirmation enough.

"Good God, I don't think Syn figured things out that fast." Edmund said as blew out a long stream of air. He pointed a finger at her. "She's **good.**"

"What the devil do you mean, 'figured things out'?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. "Count Dracula is **dead. **Even muggles know that!"

"The only knowledge muggles have about Dracula comes from a book they believe to be a work of fiction instead of an alternate history." Sir Integra announced. She inhaled deeply and interlaced her fingers together in front of her whilst shooting a look of approval in Hermione's direction. "Miss Granger is correct. I'm impressed."

"Correct?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking around at the shocked expressions on his children's faces. "So all the stories... the history about VanHelsing killing Dracula... none of it is true? He's still alive?"

The knight inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Indeed, he is very much alive, though he no longer answers to that name." she said. "The story itself is much too long to explain all once. In essence, when my great-grandfather fought Dracula so long ago, he **defeated** him, but found that he was too powerful to kill. It was too dangerous to allow him free reign, so Abraham – with the assistance of the Newsom family – found a way to permanently bind him to our bloodline. Since that day, Alucard has been an obedient servant of the Hellsing family and acts as our most powerful weapon against the monsters we fight."

While everyone else was too shocked to speak, Mr. Weasley looked more confused. "I thought during our meeting you said that it was impossible to imprison a vampire?"

"It is impossible to imprison a vampire using any ordinary means." the woman replied. "The magic practiced by the Newsoms is far from ordinary." she allowed herself to relax a bit and leaned back in her chair. "And while it is true that Alucard was once considered our 'prisoner' or 'slave', he hasn't been seen that way for a long time now. He now serves us of his own free will and I sincerely doubt he would leave, even if I wanted him to. You have nothing to fear from him. He has a flair for the dramatic and often makes a pest of himself, but he poses no real danger, I assure you."

The most powerful and monstrous vampire that had ever walked the earth - not dangerous? That pushed the bounds of believability to the breaking point. It looked like she had sent that Newsom woman off to keep him away from everyone, so they would have to take her at her word, wouldn't they? This was almost to unreal for words. Attacked by vampires, brought to the home of the most famous (and infamous) vampire hunters and sorcerers in the world – who two people they knew were secretly related to – and now this.

Dracula was alive and in the same house with them. Hermione made a mental note to corner Constance the second she was able to. That little talk she wanted to have was now a great deal more important that she thought it would be.

* * *

><p>A.N. I am soooooooooo sorry for taking so long to update. ~falls on knees to beg forgiveness~ But see, I'm giving you the longest chapter I've written thus far, so that makes it all better, right? Guys?<p>

I didn't see Integra letting Alucard anywhere near her new house guests until they were filled in on the basics. He'd probably scare the piss out of them and make them even more freaked out and less likely to listen to reason. However, I can assure you from the bottom of my heart that our favorite vampire will be making an appearance in the next chapter. I'm not sure how this is going to go, but it's definitely going to be interesting.


	52. Mind Games

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

It was an odd night, to be sure. But not for the reasons one might think. After the introductory dinner between the two families, the group of friends all managed to steal away a few snatches of time to talk amongst themselves. Constance was shocked to recieve an overwhelming outpour of apologies. Fred practically manhandled her away from George to give her a huge bear hug while declaring how awesome it was that his 'future sister-in-law' had such great connections. He then made sure that she knew he wasn't the least bit angry or upset with her - only with his brother for, in his own words: 'Being a stupid prat who broke all the basic rules of 'twinness'. With all the other stuff going on, being worried about Fred Weasley's opinion of her hadn't been incredibly high on Connie's list, but knowing that she had his approval did wonders for her spirit. Harry then jumped in with his own downtrodden apology. He remembered how she had been there for him when word about him being a parselmouth spread around the school. He had promised to do the same if something similar happened to her and in his opinion, he hadn't done a very good job of making good on his words. Even Ginny rushed to say her piece and gave her a hug. Ron looked incredibly uncomfortable with himself and remained silent for the most part. Constance half wondered if he was upset with her for going off on him. But after being given a hard elbow to the ribs and a pointed look from Hermione to spur him forward, he shuffled his feet and mumbled something about acting stupid the night before. It was then that the girl realized that he was either ashamed of himself or felt foolish for talking about something he knew nothing about. He actually refused to look her in the face until she stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ron." she said slowly, trying not to show how amused she was by how he was acting. "We've been friends for a long time, so I've pretty much figured out that you can't help freaking out and saying dumb things. It's okay."

The boy went still and stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she were serious, then huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh, go on then." he said in an irritated voice. "I came out and **said** I was stupid, and you turn it into a joke."

Connie couldn't help but smile. He was acting so upset, but she could tell he wasn't truly mad. He always hated being put on the spot.

"I wasn't expecting you to." she admitted. She shot a glance toward Hermione, noting how she was watching them intently, and lowered her voice. "She threatened to hurt you, didn't she?"

"What do you think?" Ron asked. He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you girls are bloody nightmares to deal with. If one of you isn't upset and going off about something, the other one is."

Hermione planted her hands on her hips defensively. "Well, if you didn't act like a brainless toddler, no one would have to nag at you all the time, would they?" she said snippily.

"Bloody hell, I was a bit **distraught** at the time!" he protested. "Give me a break!"

Constance decided right there that if they were bickering like they always did, then it was going to be okay.

Unfortunately, they weren't given much more conversation time. Mrs. Weasley came around to Harry's room - where they had all holed up - and declared that they needed to disperse to their own rooms and go to bed. It had been a long day and no one had gotten much sleep lately, she said. Her husband was there as well and while it was obvious from his expression that he didn't have a problem with them staying up, he wasn't about about to stand in her way. Her tone was perfectly neutral, but Connie couldn't help but get the impression that she was nervous about her being there. It could have just been her imagination, but the woman wouldn't look directly at her except for a brief passing glance. No one really wanted to start an argument over such a small thing, so they split up and did as they were told with only a small amount of grumbling. But before Constance was able to leave, Hermione grabbed her hand.

"I've been out for a long time and I'm not really tired." she told Mrs. Weasley in a diplomatic tone of voice. She glanced back at Connie. "I... don't want to keep you awake, but I'd like some company for a while. If you don't mind."

The girl knew what she was doing and gave her hand an understanding squeeze. "I don't mind at all." she assured her. "You wouldn't be keeping me awake."

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together in a tight line. Not upset really, but there was defintely some disapproval there. "Hermione dear, I don't think that's..."

"That's just fine." Mr. Weasley interrupted before she could finish. He came up behind his wife and put a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a look before turning back to the girls. "You two go on. Just try not to stay up too late."

"Oh, we wont." Hermione told him. "And we'll be quiet, I promise."

Connie wanted to sigh in relief. He was going to allow it. Mrs. Weasley was shaking her head as he gently led her away, but she didn't argue with him. The girl couldn't make out all of their whispered conversation, but it sounded like Mr. Weasley was saying something about everything being okay and leaving them alone. Reassuring her, for whatever reason. Hermione pulled Constance along into her bedroom and closed the door behing them. The moment they were alone, the girl turned and flung her arms around her in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Connie, this is awful!" she exclaimed. "I can understand being taken by surprise, but this is **rediculous**!" Hermione let go of her and started wringing her hands in agitation. "They told me everything when I woke up. I can't **believe**..." she stopped and shook her head. "I told every one of them if they didn't apologize I'd never speak to them again. I could beat Ronald to within an inch of his life!"

Constance blinked at her, then grabbed at her hands to get her to settle down. "Hermione, stop." she told her softly. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" she protested, pulling away. "We've all known each other for how long now, and they're suddenly going to act like you're a completely different person because of one thing?"

"Well, it's a bit more than just one thing..."

"Oh, whatever!" Hermione interjected. "You know what I mean! At least the others have straightened up and see reason now. But... Mrs. Weasley is being so..." she shook her head again. "I don't know what the woman's problem is, but she's just going to have to get over it. Not to sound ungrateful because I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for them, but I swear if she says **one** thing about the two of us being friends she's going to have a fight on her hands!"

She had worked herself up in a tizzy, and there was really nothing to be done but stand back out of the way. Connie watched quietly, half amused and half grateful that she was ranting and raving out of concern for her. Finally, when Hermione crossed her arms over her chest with a deep huff of irritation, she decided it might be safe to speak again.

"Are you finished?" she prodded.

Hermione shot a sideways look in her direction and sighed. "I suppose." she said, allowing herself to slump a bit. She then walked forward and gave her another tight hug. "I don't care. You know that, don't you? None of this changes anything. And..." she pulled back to look at her. "I understand why you didn't say anything, but you could have told me! After the whole thing with Lupin being a wer..."

Connie's eyes widened a hair and one of her fingers flew up to her mouth. "Shush!" she admonished quietly. "Not too loud!"

Hermione immediately shut her mouth and pressed a hand against her lips. "Sorry." she breathed.

The last thing they needed at the moment was for someone to accidentally overhear something about their DADA professor that they shouldn't know about. It would open up a whole other can of worms. Constance blew out a long stream of air.

"I really wanted to tell you." she said. "It's just... Mihnea and I have always had to be really careful about what we do and say and even if we didn't, I'm... not sure that I would have known how."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip and nodded. "I can understand that. With all of this..." she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Is he okay?" she asked, opening them again- this time worriedly. "Mihnea... how bad did I hurt him?"

Connie winced. How was she supposed to respond to that? "Hermione..."

"**Please** don't try to say I shouldn't be worried about it." the girl interrupted. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, then squared her shoulders. "Connie, I... I can't really remember what happened. I mean... I remember some things, in the beginning, but the rest is just... flashes. Pictures and sounds that don't make any sense. It's driving me insane knowing that I did something terrible without being able to remember it. And now no one will say anything specific and I keep thinking of all the worst things that I could have done... so... **please**. For my sake, just... tell me."

Her expression was pleading and Constance felt her heart sink down in her chest in sympathy. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to be in her shoes. To know something had happened, but not remember the details. If it were her, she might feel more secure at least being told something definite. The imagination, when left on it's own, could come up with horrors far worse than reality if you let it.

"Okay." she agreed slowly. "But you have to promise not to get upset." She waited for Hermione's understanding nod, then took a breath. "I wasn't here when he got back with you, so I didn't hear what all the doctors said about it. All I know for sure is that he had several deep cuts to his left arm. There was some nerve damage and he lost a lot of blood. They stitched everything up and he's been resting in his room ever since. I checked on him today when I first woke up and he was still a little out of it, but he looked better." she gave her a reassuring look. "Mihnea heals **extremely** fast. Aunt Syn said something about him getting the staples out tomorrow, so the cuts have probably already closed up. He might have some scars, but it was nothing life threatening. When I saw him down in the hospital wing, he was cussing like a sailor and threating to kill the nurses. If he was able to do that, then he'll be fine."

Hermione stared at her with a blank expression while she absorbed all the information. She appeared a wee bit relieved, but still regretful she had been responsible. After a few moments, she slowly inclined her head.

"Okay." she said in slightly shaky voice.

She shook her head for what had to be the hundredth time and walked over to the bed, allowing herself to sink down on the mattress. Her eyes were trained on the floor for a long time with her hands laying limp in her lap. Then they both came up to rub at her face, finally coming to a halt at her cheeks.

"This is happening, isn't it?" she asked. She looked up and stared at the wall over Connie's shoulder for a moment before moving them to her. The look in them was haunting. "Is this real? It doesn't feel real..."

_Oh no..._ A wave of concern rushing over her, Constance went over to sit down on the bed next to her. You were supposed to say something at times like this, weren't you? That would be the right thing to do. To offer wise words of comfort that would make everything better. But... no matter how hard she tried, Connie couldn't come up with anything that sounded right. Nothing was good enough. So instead, she just pulled Hermione's head over to rest on her shoulder and held her. The girl didn't sob or go into hysterics. She hadn't witnessed anything that had transpired when she first woke up, so maybe she had already done that. She was just... quiet. The silence was eerie.

"I feel so stupid." Hermione whispered after several long moments.

Connie's brows furrowed and she petted her hair soothingly. "You're **not** stupid." she told her. "Sometimes... bad things just happen, no matter what we do. There was nothing you could have done."

The girl sniffed. "Maybe not **then**, but I could have..." she began in a tone so quiet it was almost a whisper. She gently pulled herself away to sit upright and rubbed at her nose. "I... I have a time-turner. Professor McGonagall gave it to me at the beginning of the year so I'd be able to get to all my classes. I left it at school so it wouldn't get misplaced while I was home, but... Connie, if I had thought to bring it with me, I could use it go back. I could make it so none of this ever happened. But I was **stupid**, and I left it there! Why didn't I bring it with me?"

Constance went very still. Hermione had a **time-turner**? She didn't know much about them but from what little she understood, they were heavily regulated by the Ministry. That was how she was able to take multiple classes held at the same time? By going back in time? She pushed those realizations and thoughts to the side to deal with the matter at hand.

"Hermione, listen to me." she said in a firm tone, taking the girl's hands and pulling them into her lap. "I'll admit I don't know much about how those things work, but... aren't time-turners set up where you can only go back so many hours? And even if you could go back that far, what could you do?"

"I could warn them!" she insisted. "I could... wake up my parents... get them out of the house... I could..."

It was heartbreaking, but Connie shook her head. "There were ghouls everywhere, Hermione. If you had left your house, you wouldn't have had any defense. No one would have been able to find you, and if there was the smallest mistake..."

"But I could do **something!**" Hermione continued to protest, her tone becoming more frantic. "Harry... he said you killed two vampires by yourself! If you could do that, then I could do something to keep my family from..."

"**Hermione**!" Constance shouted at her, not able to take listening to it anymore. She grabbed the girl's shoulders and gave her a good shake. "Will you **listen **to yourself? What happened to your parents is horrible. It really is. No one wishes things could be different more than me. But if you went back in time, there is absolutely nothing you'd be able to do to change it. It would probably end up the exact same way or worse, so you just... **stop**! You'll drive yourself crazy thinking that way!"

Hermione's eyes went wide with shock and stared at her. Connie suddenly realized how tight her grip was and let go of her.

"I'm sorry." she said, wanting to hit herself. That was probably the last thing she should have done. "I didn't mean to snap."

"No... you're right." Hermione told her, speaking slowly. She pressed a hand to her forehead, then shoved her thick mass of hair behind her ears. "I'm not thinking clearly. I know that. I just... I don't know what to do." she looked like she wanted to burst into tears but was holding herself back. "Everything is gone now."

"That's not true." Constance said. She took her hands again. "You still have all your friends. You have a place to go and a family who'll take care of you. I know it's not the same as before, but that's still something, isn't it?"

Hermione sniffed again. "Yes... I suppose it is." She closed her eyes and sighed. "With how Mrs. Weasley is acting now, I'm starting to wonder if going to live with them is such a good idea. What's going to happen if she tries to cut us off? I never would have thought she'd do something like that, but now... I don't know what to think anymore."

That was a possibility that Connie didn't like considering herself, but there was always a chance. "I've been trying not to think about it." she admitted. "I really don't like all of you being put in a weird position because of me, but... honestly, we spend most of our time at school and she can't control what any of us do there." she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "George has already said that if she gets any worse, he'll pack up and leave. If worse comes to worse, you always come with him."

The girl went still and blinked at her. "Do **what**?" she questioned in astonishment. "He really said that?"

Constance nodded. "We argued about it for a long time, actually. I don't like the idea of him doing something like that, but... he's as stubborn as a damn goat and it's hard to stop him once he's put his mind to something. I eventually gave up trying and told him that if he was going to do it, he might as well just come here."

Hermione continued to stare. "You know if George left, Fred would be right behind him." she pointed out. "You can't separate those two for long."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, this is a big house so there'd be plenty of room. My mother would probably have an anuerism though."

"Well, it **would** be strange." the girl agreed. "I can't imagine having your boyfriend randomly show up at your door ready to move in without the parents getting a little upset. Not to mention if his twin brother were with him."

Constance cocked her head to the side for a moment, then understood what she meant. She let out a small laugh. "I actually didn't mean it that way." she told her. At Hermione's curious look, she went on. "We have a running joke in my family that you can't leave any of the men here alone for long or they'll get into trouble. **Especially** my dad. He's... well, my mom says he's dangerously close to being a pyromanic. He builds homemade pipe bombs and sets them off for fun. With the way Fred and George are, can you imagine what would happen if one of them got their hands on a bomb?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she gaped at her for a moment before her hand flew to her mouth. Then a giggle escaped. Just a tiny one at first, then it grew until she was practically doubled over with laughter.

"Oh my God, is that **true**?" she asked. "You wouldn't have a house left!"

"Exactly." Connie said in a deadpan tone. "Hence why my mom would have an anuerism. She's very attached to this house, so she would get **a bit** upset if something happened to it."

Hermione found that so incredibly funny that she laughed and giggled until she could scarcely breathe. It was so good to see a smile on her friend's face again that Constance found herself laughing along as well. They laughed until it felt like everything was normal again. When the giggle fit finally found it's conclusion, Hermione sobered and smoothed out the blankets in front of her.

"Thank you for staying." she told her sincerely. "I wasn't looking forward to being in this big room by myself all night."

"You know I don't mind." Connie replied, giving her a small push. "And it's not **that** big."

One of Hermione's brows went up incredulously. "Not that big?" she gestured at the space around them. "Connie, this room is bigger than the ones at school!"

Constance stopped and looked around. She had lived in this house all her life, so she really didn't pay attention to details like that. Now that she mentioned it, it **was** sort of huge...

"Okay, you have a point." she conceeded.

Across from her, Hermione sniffed in approval at having won the argument. She then paused and looked at her sheepishly. "Would you... not tell anyone about the time-turner?" she asked carefully. "Professor McGonagall went to a lot of trouble to get it for me and no one is supposed to know I have it."

Connie shot her a meaningful glance. "Tell who about what?" she questioned. She made a slashing motion across her chest with a finger. "I don't know what you're talking about. Cross my heart. I'm an expert at keeping secrets."

Hermione studied her for a moment, then laughed again. "I guess you would be, wouldn't you?"

* * *

><p>They stayed up for a few hours more until Hermione began to feel the first tugs of tiredness creep up on her. Remembering their promise not to stay up too late, Constance left around eleven so she could go to bed. Hermione thought she would have trouble falling asleep with as long as she had been unconscious, but in reality it wasn't difficult at all. Unfortunately, rest didn't come as easily as sleep did. She tossed and turned all night, unable to stay in one position for very long. Awful dreams assaulted her. The word 'nightmare' didn't adequately define them. It was more of a... dark, disturbing confusion. Random images and bits of sound jumbled up in no particular order, making it impossible to determine what was what. Pools of inpenetrable blackness interwoven with blood, glints of light, and booming sounds that made it seem like the world was breaking apart. Then those piercing, glowing eyes and the familiar voice commanding her to sleep...<p>

"Hermione?" a voice questioned. It sounded both soothing and concerned. A warm hand pressed against her forehead. "Hermione, dear, you need to wake up."

The girl bolted upright in bed, wondering if this was some new facet to the dream she'd been swept up in. The moment she opened her eyes her mind went blank, like a slate being wiped clean. She looked around wildly, seeing people in her room. Why were there people in her room?

"Wha... where..." she began, then realized what was going on and where she was. She turned to look at the woman sitting in front of her. "Mrs... Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together in a concerned frown and she smoothed the damp hair back out of her face. "Yes dear, it's only me." she cooed softly. "It's alright. You were having a nightmare."

Hermione blinked at her in confusion and looked down. Her hands were shaking and her skin was coated with a thin sheen of cold sweat. It must have been awful if someone had come in to wake her up. She didn't remember much of the dream, but she hadn't thought it had been that bad... She looked around again and noted that **everyone** was in her room. Mr. Weasley was right behind his wife, Harry and Ron were just beyond them - both with worried expressions on their faces - and the twins were standing near the door with a shaken looking Ginny.

"Hermione... are you okay?" Ron asked her in shaky voice.

"I... I think so..." she began. Was her voice really as frail and broken as it sounded to her? She closed her eyes and tried to regain herself. "Why are you in here?"

When her eyes opened again, she saw everyone looking around at each other. It was similar to those nervous looks they had when she first woke up - knowing something, but not sure of whether to say or not. Harry took a small step forward.

"You were screaming." he told her carefully. "We all heard it."

Ron nodded. His face was pale "Bloody hell, it was the scariest thing I've ever heard." he said in a quiet voice. "It sounded like you were being... tortured or something."

_Screaming?_ Hermione wondered. That was disturbing, considering she didn't know what she'd been dreaming about. Maybe it was best that she didn't. She looked forward again as Mrs. Weasley patted at her hands and turned to shoot a dispproving look at Ron.

"**Hush**. Going on about it won't make it any better." she said firmly before turning back to Hermione. "Don't you worry about it." she consoled. "It was only a dream, nothing more. You're alright."

Mr. Weasley disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and returned with a glass of water. He crouched down next to her. "Drink a little something." he instructed.

Hermione silently took the glass he extended out and sipped at it. The cool liquid helped her nerves settle down a bit. Mrs. Weasley kept one arm around her, while the other continued to pet at her hair.

"There we go." she told her, watching her drink. "That's a good girl. Feel better?"

The girl gave her a small nod. "Yes ma'am." she replied. "I really don't remember anything..." she stopped herself before going too far. She had no desire to dwell on it. "What time is it?"

She was surprised to hear that it was eight fifteen in the morning. Hermione was so used to getting up by seven, she was stunned that she'd actually slept so long. When they saw that she was acting more like herself, the others seemed to calm down. However, Mrs. Weasley kept petting and codling.

"You should probably eat something, dear." she told her. She looked over at her husband. "Surely one of those 'maid' girls would bring something up if we asked?"

The woman always seemed to believe that a hot meal could cure just about anything. Hermione was indeed hungry, but she didn't much like the idea of remaining upstairs.

"Connie said something about her family having breakfast about this time." she said, speaking carefully. "Wouldn't it be easier to just go downstairs?"

"**Thank** you!" Fred and George said together. They crossed their arms over their chests and shot identical looks of irritation at their mother. "We've been trying to tell her that, but mom won't see reason."

Mrs. Weasley turned away from Hermione to give them a look of reproach. "I don't want you wandering around here by yourselves." she told them. "There are monsters in this house."

"**Molly**." Mr. Weasley said with a bit of hardness to his tone. "We've been through this enough by now. Sir Integra told us that we're safe here and I believe her."

"You believe a woman who keeps vampires in her house like **pets**?" she asked him incredulously.

Across the room, George bristled. "Good God, mother, what do you want us to do? Stay locked up in our rooms all the time?" he demanded. "I was up and about all day yesterday and not a damn thing happened."

"Watch your language, George Weasley!" his mother snapped. "I've had about enough out of you! Do you know how **irresponsible** it was to run off like you did? You could have gotten hurt or worse!"

"Doing **what**?" he asked, blinking at her in bewilderment.

Fred elbowed him in the ribs. "Didn't you sleep on a couch?" he prodded. "Why, that's right dangerous, that is! Could have pulled your back out. That can be lethal, you know."

George waved at him. "Nah, mate, that couch was comfy. Better than our beds back home. I told Connie I might nick it from her."

Mr. Weasley gave the pair of them a look and told them not to sass their mother. Even though it was clear that the woman didn't want them going anywhere, Hermione continued to insist that she would prefer to eat breakfast downstairs - sitting at a proper table. Everyone aside from Mrs. Weasley agreed they wanted to do the same, so she had no choice but to relent. However, she made the stipulation that if they went, they all had to stay together. Fred and George made a few snarky comments under their breath about her probably expecting them all to hold hands and check around corners as well.

Everyone departed to their own rooms long enough to change out of their pajamas, then regrouped in the hallway. There wasn't a maid around to show them the way like the night before, but George seemed to know where he was going. He said that while they had been off doing whatever they had been up to the day before, he had gotten a tour of the manor and had a general idea of where things were located. The whole way, he was nudging his twin in the ribs, pointing things out and whispering about things he had seen or heard during his explorations.

When they finally got down to the hallway that led to the dining room, everyone went still at the sound of voices coming from within. Hermione couldn't make out any specific pieces of conversation, but there were definitely a whole host of people in there. Upon arriving at the door itself, they saw Sir Integra sitting in her chair at the head of the table with a cigar balanced between her fingers. Connie was seated to her right, still dressed in the pajamas she had worn the night before. Her normally light brown hair was freshly washed and the still present dampness made it appear several shades darker. Miss Newsom was at the opposite side of the table in a loose white shirt with her hair haphazardly knotted into a bun with several thick pieces hanging around her face and neck. She was smoking as well, only hers looked more like a regular cigarette wrapped in black paper rather than white. On the same side with her were two others: one was the Bernadette man they'd met at King's Cross. He looked exactly the same except for his incredibly long auburn hair being loose and free rather than braided. He and Syn were sharing an ashtray since he was smoking too. (_Does everyone in this house do that?_ The girl found herself wondering.) The final person was a short, voluptuous looking woman with strawberry blonde hair cut in a longish pixie style. Her looks were that of a classic 'blonde bombshell', but her demeanor gave her a more girlish air. She had to be in her late teens or early twenties at the most. Ginny tugged at Hermione's shirt sleeve and leaned in to whisper.

"That's the vampire that was at our house." she told her in a quick rush of breath.

Hermione blinked in surprise, then stared. There was no way! That woman was about the furthest one could get from the mental images conjured up by the word 'vampire'. She could scarcely fathom how she could be the least bit frightening. The blonde woman's head turned away from the conversation she was engaged in to look in their direction. Once she was focused on them, those with her moved to look as well.

"Oh!" Connie said, surprised by the sight of all of them together. "Good morning."

Sir Integra took the cigar from her lips and blew out a long stream of smoke as she carefully laid it down in a crystal ashtray sitting in front of her. "We weren't quite sure if you'd be joining us this morning." she commented, then paused, peering at Hermione with a shade of concern. "You look pale, Miss Granger. Are you alright?"

The girl winced. She couldn't possibly look so awful that everyone noticed, did she? That made her feel even more awkward. Mr. Weasley's hand came down to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm afraid Hermione had a bit of a rough night." he told them.

Syn and the two vampires gave each other understanding looks, almost as if they could read into the hidden meaning of his words. Constance's brows furrowed and she studied her questioningly. At the head of the table, the knight frowned in silent consideration.

"I'm sorry to hear that." she said. It sounded sincere. One of her hands came up to gesture to the table. "Well, if you're hungry we have more than enough for everyone."

Indeed, it looked like a feast had been laid out. There were a few dishes that weren't immediatley recognizable from a distance, as well as eggs, bacon, sausages, hashbrowns, grilled tomatoes, black pudding, toast, and a selection of jams and marmalade. As they all moved to take seats at the table, Hermione looked at Constance curiously.

"Your dad isn't here?" she asked quietly.

Connie shook her head. "No, he's gone." she replied.

Thought they had been speaking quietly, Sir Integra seemed to catch on to what they were talking about. "Edmund left earlier to go speak to Mr. Potter's family." she announced. She looked specifically at Harry. "He told me intended to make a stop at Little Whinging beforehand to work on your house while there isn't anyone around to get in the way."

"Oh." Harry said, looking a bit surprised. Apparently, he hadn't thought they would do that so quickly. "Um... thank you."

"Not at all." the knight replied, then gestured toward the two sitting with Miss Newsom. "I believe introductions are in order. This is First Officer Seras Victoria, whom who probably remember, and Captain Pip Bernadette, who was in command of the team sent to Little Whinging."

The blonde woman, Seras, shifted in her seat then couldn't seem to restrain herself any longer. She thrust out her hand toward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with a bright, enthusiastic smile.

"It's a pleasure." she said. "And I am **very** sorry if I frightened you the other night. I know I look pretty scary when I've been in a fight, but I'm not usually like that, I promise."

She was incredibly friendly to the point of being bubbly. The adults gave each other an odd sort of look, then Mr. Weasley reached out to accept her hand. His wife was much more hesitant about it, but eventually, she did as well. When Seras pulled back, Bernadette moved to reach past her.

"I got to meet all of zhem, but I zhink me and Mihnea left before you zhowed up." He told Mr. Weasley as he grasped his hand, referring to the younger members of their group. When he went to take Mrs. Weasley's hand, his head cocked slightly to the side. "Zhe whole vampire zhing iz ztill freaking you out, 'uh?"

Mrs. Weasley leaned back a bit with an odd expression as she accepted the handshake and glanced at her husband. "A bit, yes." she admitted.

The captain waved at her. "No worries." he said good naturedly. "I waz 'uman when I first ztarted working 'ere and I zwear I zhought zhis place waz run by a bunch of crazy women or zomezhing. Zhen Mignonette 'ere flicked me acrozz zhe room and I zort of 'ad to ztart believing. Once you get your brain wrapped around zhe idea, eet's not zo bad."

Fred's eyes went wide. "Whoa whoa whoa, wait." he said. "**Flicked**?"

"Yep." Bernadette confirmed. He flicked his middle finger against his thumb to demonstrate. "Juzt like zhat. I zhink I flew like ten feet..."

"**Five** feet." Seras corrected.

Pip whirled to look at her incredulously. "I zhink I'd remember 'ow far eet waz, Mignonette!" he protested. "You broke my noze!"

"You were making fun of me so you **deserved** it." the girl replied, sticking her nose up into the air with a sniff. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You were there, Sir Integra. How far do you think it was?"

The knight picked up her cigar to take a thoughtful puff. "I didn't have a tape measure at the time but if memory serves, it was significantly less than ten feet."

Pip's mouth fell open and he then turned toward Miss Newsom as if to ask for backup. Before a word could come out of his mouth, she held up a finger.

"I wasn't there, so don't drag me into it."

"You won't 'elp me out? Even a little?" he prodded. "I'm your favorite zon-in-law!"

"**Only** son-in-law." she rephrased, giving him a look. "Your 'favorite' status has been called into question since you stole my pie crusts for your quiche this morning."

"I zaid I waz zorry!" he continued to protest. "Zhe quiche waz good, zo zhat makez eet all better, oui?"

The redhead's expression remained deliberately non-commital as she blew a stream of smoke directly into his face. When he continued to pout, she picked up her plate and held it out in front of him

"I haven't had enough to decide." she said. "Cut me another slice and we'll see."

It was positively stunning. They engaged in the sort of familiar teasing that everyone endulged in with others they got along with and knew well. It was so... well, **normal** that it was endearing. As Hermione watched the captain dutifully serve Syn another slice of mushroom quiche, she thought about what he said. He had been human when he first began working there. That meant that something must have happened for him to be turned. It spoke volumes of Sir Integra's character that she allowed him to stay on after being transformed into one of the creatures she was supposed to hunt. There was something else as well. He called Seras 'mignonette'. Hermione wasn't intimately acquainted with all aspects of the French language, but she knew enough to ascertain that the word was a term of endearment. Along the same lines as a boy calling a girl he liked a 'doll'. That strongly implied...

"Wait a minute!" she said, putting her hands flat on the table as she studied the female vampire. "You're Mihnea's sister, aren't you?"

The others looked at her like she was crazy, but the members of Hellsing all wore expressions varying from impressed to outright surprise. Seras blinked at her.

"Ah... yes?" she confirmed.

"No bleeding way!" Ron exclaimed. Mrs. Weasley immediately popped him on the back of the head with a sharp pronouncement to watch his language. He blanched and rubbed at the sore spot left behind. "Sorry." he muttered, then looked back at the female vampire in confusion. "I just meant... the two of you don't look anything alike."

The blonde just smiled in amusement. "Well, it's all really complicated and hard to explain, but master started referring to us that way on his own and it stuck." she told him. "I guess you could say that I was adopted when I was made. Pip was still human when Mihnea was a baby so I got first dibs on having a little brother, see?"

Everyone let out an 'oh' of understanding. Hermione remembered something she read about vampires choosing the type of familial relationships they had with the ones they made. So... perhaps this 'Alucard' had decided to view Seras as a daughter and Pip wasn't taken in as closely as she was? While it made sense to her mind, it was indeed something that would be difficult to put into words. The Hellsing and Newsom families were becoming more complex by the minute.

It took a while, but eventually curiosity won out over nerves and everyone grew more comfortable with taking part in the conversation. They had been downstairs for about forty-five minutes or so when Bassarab finally showed up. He entered so quietly that they nearly missed his presence until a tall, dark clad form walked right past the table to a door at the back of the room. All of the younger people fell silent when they caught sight of him - not out of any sort of fear, but more from pure surprise that he was there. Mihnea didn't look at anyone, keeping his eyes trained forward as he strode toward his destination with a small black trashbag dangling from his right hand. He disappeared into what must have been the kitchen then reappeared a few moments later; the garbage bag replaced with a large mug of coffee. His eyes so heavy lidded with tiredness that they could scarely be seen, he plopped down in the chair next to Syn, set the mug down on the table, then dropped his head down onto her shoulder. The woman arched her brow ever so slightly at the action. She stamped out what was left of her black cigarette, then lifted her hand to pet his hair.

"Good morning." she said. Her head turned to press her cheek against his forehead. "Feel better?"

Bassarab mumbled something in response that sounded like it could have been 'yes ma'am.'

"Did you sleep at all?"

Without moving from the position he was in, his head shook. Miss Newsom frowned.

"Dreams again?"

He gave a small nod in response. Syn wrinkled her nose with a sort of understanding dislike and rubbed her hand across his back soothingly.

"We can take care of that." she told him.

Though it had been explained that Syn was Mihnea's mother, the information hadn't really sunk in yet. It was hard to truly comprehend and accept something like that without seeing the two people in question together. Hermione didn't see Bassarab that much at school unless he was doing something with Constance, but she had always taken him to be a self-reliant sort of person, with a 'devil may care' attitude mixed with a strange sense of formality. He certainly had the most intimidating presence of any Slytherin at school aside from Professor Snape himself. But there he was, sitting at the table with messy hair, bleary eyes, wearing a black wife-beater style shirt that he had surely slept in, allowing a woman significantly smaller in height and size to pet and dote on him like he was a little boy. Even Mrs. Weasley looked a bit stunned by it - almost like she were seeing Syn with new eyes. Mihnea didn't complain when Syn instructed him to sit upright so she could examine him. There was only a small sigh of acquiesence as she carefully studied his eyes, then had him squeeze her hands with his fingers to determine their strength. His left forearm was wrapped from the palm all the way up to the elbow with thick white guaze. He appeared to have little trouble gripping with his right hand, but the fingers of the left only twiched and moved awkwardly. Hermione winced at the sight, remembering Constance telling her that there had been nerve damage. Miss Newsom, though, looked pleased.

"**Much** better." she praised.

Bassarab just rolled his eyes and focused his attention on drinking his coffee while Syn began piling his plate up with a bit of everything on the table. Next to Connie, George leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"You alright there, mate?" he asked. "You looked awful last time we saw you."

Mihnea glanced in his direction. He looked a bit put out that he mentioned that, but chose not to point it out. He only gave him an emotionless: "I'm fine."

When his plate was set down in front of him, he instinctively reached for his fork with his left hand. He managed to pick it up, but was unable to grip it correctly and it slipped from his fingers and clattered against the table. Mihnea's nostrils flared and he glared down at the offending piece of metal. It could have been a trick of the light, but it seemed that the color of them shifted. The usual emerald green sparked with a quick flash of red. He then closed his eyes with an irritated huff, took a deep breath to calm himself, and moved to pick it up with his right. Hermione's stomach tightened uncomfortably with each passing moment. Every move he made was so awkward and unnatural that there was no way he was right handed. And now his entire left arm was useless because of something she had done. That made it all seem doubly worse in her eyes.

"I'm **so** sorry." she gushed.

Bassarab's fork of eggs paused mid-way to his mouth and he peered at her. "What for?" he asked, sounding like he genuinely didn't know what the reason was. Then his eyes flicked toward his wrapped arm. "This?" he asked, holding it up. "It happens. Don't worry about it."

He sounded so non-chalant, and Hermione couldn't fathom how he dismissed it so easily. He had to be angry with the way he reacted to dropping the fork.

"But..." she began, intending to protest.

"It's **fine**, Granger." he interrupted. "I've got more scars than Frankenstein's monster, so adding a few more to the collection isn't a big deal." he sniffed like the conversation was over and returned to his breakfast. "Just don't be surprised when I get tense if I ever see you holding a big knife again."

His tone was dry, but Hermione noticed him give her a subtle glance, as if determining her reaction to his statement. She wasn't the only one who noticed it either.

"Hey!" Fred said, sounding surprised. "Was that a **joke**?"

Bassarab's eyes flicked in his direction. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not allowed to have a sense of humor?" he questioned sarcastically.

While Fred commenced defending his statement by saying that he hadn't meant anything by it, Ron's brows knotted together in confusion.

"What's Frankenstein's monster?" he whispered.

Collectively, the younger people who had grown up around muggles did their best to explain how it was a character in a piece of literature. Hermione herself didn't really understand why Mihnea chose to compare himself to such a creature though. Perhaps he was exaggerating for dramatic effect. Once she saw that Ron got the basic idea, she turned back around to sit properly in her seat and carefully cleared her throat.

"I... ah... heard you have Crookshanks." she began. "I hope he hasn't been too much trouble..."

Bassarab shook his head. "No, he's been fine." he told her. "Pixie's territorial so **she** wasn't too happy about it at first, but I think she's calmed down now. I've got plenty of food and stuff, so if you need anything for him, just ask."

Hermione blinked at him. While she appreciated the offer, Crookshanks wasn't the only cat there. "Won't you need that for yours though?"

"Not really." he replied. "Pixie prefers to hunt for herself so she doesn't eat store bought food that often. I have a twenty pound bag that's lasted for nearly a year and it's still about half full. Take what you need. If it runs out, I can always get more." he then looked over at Harry. "Your owl is here too, by the way."

Harry immediately sat up at attention. "Hedwig?" he asked. "When did she get here?"

"A few hours after you guys did." Mihnea reported. He shrugged. "Archimedes was staying with me while Connie was gone, so I guess she came to my window since this is his territory." he motioned to his cousin. "She came and got her yesterday, so she's in her room now."

Constance nodded. "With the way his cat was acting with Crookshanks around, I didn't know how she'd take to another animal being in there." she explained. "I don't know what you usually do with Hedwig, but Archimedes **hates** being cooped up for long periods of time. I've been letting them both go outside to fly for a few hours during the day. I let them out this morning before I came down."

The boy waved at her to show that wasn't a problem. "That's fine. I'm not allowed to let her out much when I'm at home, so I'm sure she's loving it." he paused and gave her an odd look. "You didn't say anything about her being here last night."

Connie winced and shot the smallest of glances toward the Weasley parents. "I would have Harry, but I didn't really have time to."

There was no need for her to explain further. Mrs. Weasley had seperated them pretty quickly last night. Hermione noticed Mr. Weasley giving his wife a sideways glance that came close to being an 'I told you so' look. While they all fell into an awkward sort of silence, Mihnea pointedly ignored the atmosphere and moved to pull several folded sheets of parchment from his pocket. He held them out to his mother with two fingers.

"Read this."

Miss Newsom peered at him, then studied the paper with a hint of caution. "Have you gotten into some kind of trouble I don't know about?" she asked.

Bassarab snorted. "Oh please, mom." he said with a roll of his eyes. "It's about that thing we talked about the other day."

Her brows furrowed thoughtfully. "What thi... **oh**!" she suddenly exclaimed in realization, then her eyes narrowed in a way that was almost disapproving. "You **wrote** to her about it?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I haven't written one thing to her. That's the point. She came up with this all by herself." he waved the papers at her. "Don't say anything, just read."

Syn took the papers from him with a perplexed expressions and opened them up to read their contents. Bernadette and Seras looked at each other.

"Hey, is that about the p..." the female vampire started, only to be interrupted by a sharp look from Bassarab.

"Shut it, Seras." he snapped.

The draculina made a face of annoyance at being cut off, but before she could make any rebuttal, Miss Newsom waved at both of them to stop. "Quiet." she said, then kept reading. At one point, her mouth opened like she was going to say something, then closed it and cocked her head to the side. Then she blinked in amazement.

"Oh, wow..." she mouthed without making any sound.

One of Mihnea's dark brows slowly went up. "See what I mean now?"

His mother nodded. "I do. This is **amazing**."

Sir Integra looked over with interest and asked what it was they were talking about. Mihnea took the folded paper from Miss Newsom and passed it over for her to read as well. The others looked on curiously and Hermione leaned over to whisper to Constance.

"What is that about?" she asked.

Connie shook her head, though she looked interested as well. "It's something Mihnea has going on." she replied.

Well, that wasn't the least bit helpful at ascertaining what it could be. No one else could figure it out either. Sir Integra reacted to the missive in a similar manner to Syn - first wearing an odd expression like she were reading something difficult to interpret, then there was a sudden dawn of understanding.

"Interesting..." she mused. She passed the papers back to him. "I suppose you and Alucard and going to be busy for next few days then?"

Mihnea wrinkled his nose. "Good God, aunt Integra, I don't think it'll take **that** long."

She waved a hand. "Well, however long it takes, just see to it that your father doesn't talk you into doing anything too outlandish."

The mention of the name of the household's other, most initimidating vampire didn't go unnoticed. But before anyone could say a word or ask any questions about it, a deep resonant chuckle poured through the air.

"**Outlandish**, master?" it questioned. "Whatever would make you think such a thing of me?"

It came out of nowhere and it was impossible to determine what direction it was coming from. Everyone went still and looked around with wide eyes full of anxiousness.

"Bloody hell, what is that?" Ron whispered in a fearful tone. It was a credit to everyone's mental state that neither of his parents rebuked him for swearing.

The adult members of Hellsing all looked at each other, then up at the ceiling with a deep sigh - like this was an occurance they were used to and found annoying. Sir Integra reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"What do you want, Alucard?" she called out.

At that moment, something incredibly strange occured. An odd sort of... feeling swept across Hermione's senses. From the expressions on other others' faces, they felt it as well. It was such an unusual sensation that it nearly crossed a boundary into the indiscribable. The room was suddenly flooded with a well of pure power so raw, dark, and **strong** that it made the insides tremble and the mind go blank with apprehension. Like whatever it foretold was so far beyond understanding that one couldn't even begin to process it. The temperature of the air dropped several degrees as a form began to appear on the wall opposite them. First it was a pale skinned hand, followed by a long arm. Then a torso. Finally, the full-bodied form stepped forward out of the wall and solidified. Impossibly tall, lean yet well defined, dressed in a tailored black suit and black overcoat, with shiny black leather riding boots that came up to his knees. His inky black hair was thick and silky. The shortest parts just barely brushing the collar of his shirt, while the front was much longer. But it was the face that was most striking, and Hermione wasn't the only one who found herself quickly looking back and forth between him and Mihnea. Alucard's face had the elegant structure of an aristocrat - a strong chin with the growth of a thin goatee, high cheekbones, and long, straight nose upon which a pair of red tinted sunglasses sat, covering his eyes. Aside from a few **extremely** slight differences (the facial hair and different hairstyles being the most obvious) they looked a lot alike. If there had been any doubt about Mihnea being the son of the most powerful vampire in existance, it was instantly removed.

The girl had never considered the idea of describing a creature (especially a male) so mind-numbingly frightening as 'beautiful', but he truly was. Beautiful and entrancing with a hint of something that could only be called demonic - as if his mere presence was enough to force you to pay attention to him. When Alucard walked forward, he moved with the grace of a stalking cat. Perfectly controlled and deliberate, but the mind still subconsciously registered the possibility of those movements becoming lethal. He came up behind Syn's chair and paused like he was perfectly content to stand rather than sit.

"You always think the worst of me." he said in a voice that was pure silk.

Sir Integra sniffed at him. "Thinking the worst is always the safest option when it comes to you, vampire." she replied. She took a moment to study his appearance. "You look... different."

His lips pulled into a smirk and he inclined his head in assent. "Syn and I have an appointment in London this morning, do we not? If we're to infiltrate an establishment that caters to vampires, it wouldn't do for me to be recognized, now would it?"

The redhead, who appeared to be ignoring him for the most part, suddenly gave a start and whirled around to gape at him. "Oh **shit**!" she exclaimed, looking horrified. "What time is it?"

"Nearly ten, little goddess." the vampire told her.

The woman's eyes went wide and she jumped up from the table, gaving him a hard push to get him out of her way. "You couldn't have **said** something?" she demanded. "We'll be late!"

One of his dark brows rose. "Am I your keeper now?" he asked. He looked her up and down. "To be honest, I was rather looking forward to dragging you naked through the city streets."

Syn was rushing speedily toward the door and didn't bother looking back. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that!" she shouted as she disappeared through the door and around a corner. "I'll be right back!"

Alucard chuckled at her comment and rapid departure, then smoothly pulled out the chair she had been sitting in to take her place. After lowering himself down in an elegant motion, he slid off his sunglasses - revealing a pair of piercing, blood colored eyes. The moment she saw them, Hermione froze and thought that perhaps that quick flash of color she had noticed in Bassarab's eyes earlier wasn't a trick of the light after all.

"Well now." he began in a smooth tone, giving each one of them a passing glance. "It has been **such** a long time since we've had new blood in the house."

When she saw how his attention was making them nervous, Sir Integra cleared her throat. "Behave yourself, vampire." she instructed like she were speaking to an unruly child. She waved at him with a finger. "And tone it down if you don't mind."

Alucard turned to look at her. "You are no fun, master."

"Considering that your idea of 'fun' usually consists of the stuff of nightmares, I believe it's a reasonable request." the woman quipped. She leveled a firm look down her nose at him. "Tone it **down**. That's an order."

The vampire sighed and made a sweeping hand motion through the air. "As you wish." he said.

Slowly, the oppressive atmosphere in the room faded back to normal. Once Hermione was able to breathe properly and didn't feel the overwhelming urge to hide under the table, she recognized what must have been going on. Alucard had deliberately manipulated the environment to paralyze them with fear. The reason was beyond her, but from what little they had been told about him, it could have been that he was simply showing off how powerful he was. Of course, he was still fearsome without anything added on, but at least now his presence was bearable.

The vampire shot only the smallest of looks back in their direction before ignoring them entirely. Whether it was due to Sir Integra's order or from him not finding them interesting, the girl didn't know. He decided to focus on Constance instead.

"I heard an interesting rumor about you, young master." he commented, interlacing his fingers in front of him.

Connie looked up from her plate. "What would that be?"

"That you made your first kill." he replied. "Two vampires without assistance. Is this true?"

"It is."

Alucard's eyes sparkled at her and his lips pulled into a wide grin. He pressed a hand to his chest in a mock expression of dismay. "Ah, it pains my very soul to know that I missed it!" he said with relish. "The vision of a young maiden drawing blood for the first time is always a breathtaking sight to see." He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward intently. "Did you enjoy it?"

His lowered tone and near husky delivery gave the question a suggestive bent that was impossible to miss. Connie's cheeks turned pink and she shook her head as she glared at him.

"I'm not answering that." she said.

Alucard arched an eyebrow at her. "Why ever not?" he prodded, making an attempt at sounding innocent.

The brown haired girl sniffed and folded her arms over her chest. "Because no matter what I say, you'll find a way of twisting it into some awful, perverted thing that I didn't mean." she told him resolutely. "And I don't feel like playing one of your annoying mind games right now."

The vampire studied her for a moment before his grin widened with approval. "Touche, young master." he said, nodding to her in acceptance. His red eyes flickered with mischief. "Perhaps later, when we are lacking an audience, you will be more... **receptive** to playing one of my mind games?"

Connie huffed at him in irritation, turned her head to the side and stuck her nose up in the air. After a moment or two, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'll think about it."

It was somewhat unsettling to watch an adult interact with someone Connie's age in such a manner, but the members of Hellsing didn't seem to be bothered by it. Either it was a trait of Alucard's personality that they were accustomed to, or he didn't truly mean things the way they sounded. Sir Integra was looking at her daughter with a restrained sense of pride, like she was pleased by her behavior. Indeed, even more surprising than the vampire's demeanor was the way Constance didn't seem the least bit afraid of him and had no problem with putting her foot down and bantering right back. Of course, she would have lived in the same house with him all her life, so she'd be used to it, but the idea was still hard to wrap one's brain around.

His initial teasing of Constance over, Alucard then turned his attention toward the boy sitting next to him. He took notice of which hand he was using to eat with and made a comment about it. Or... at least, that's what he **appeared** to be doing. It was impossible to tell exactly what the vampire was saying because when he spoke, it was in a language none of them understood. Bassarab, though, seemed to know exactly what was being said to him and responded in kind - displaying a mastery at speaking the language fluently.

"Sweet Merlin, this is **freaky**." Fred breathed in a voice that was so quiet it almost couldn't be heard. He leaned back behind George to whisper at Constance. "What are they saying?"

The girl shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?"

Ron blinked at her in astonishment. "You don't know what language that is?" he asked quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "Not knowing how to speak it doesn't mean I don't know what language it is." she countered. "It's..."

"Romanian." Hermione finished for her. She pulled her eyes away from the scene she was watching to look back at her friends. "That's where Dracula was originally from, so it makes perfect sense, of course. Honestly, how could you not know that?"

"Well **excuse** me." he hissed back at her. "Are you an expert on Dracula now?"

She narrowed her eyes, irritated. "I read, Ronald. You should try it every now and t..."

"You **read**, do you?" a silky, purring voice interrupted. "I wasn't aware that my personal history was common fodder for girls your age."

Hermione froze and glanced back to find that Alucard's conversation with Mihnea had ended and he was now looking intently at her. Mrs. Weasley immediately bristled with protectiveness.

"That poor girl has been through enough, so you leave her al..."

The vampire's eyes snapped toward her. "I wasn't speaking to **you**, woman." he snapped.

It wasn't loud, but it was definitely menacing enough to bring her statement to a screeching halt. He narrowed his eyes slightly in warning, then turned back to the girl.

"I'm waiting."

Hermione gave a start when she realized he wanted a response. What was a person supposed to do in a situation like this? Thinking that she didn't want to be percieved as a coward, the girl squared her shoulders and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"I... read the novel 'Dracula' when I was younger." she began hesitantly. "When I heard it was based on a historical figure, I did some research."

"I see." He sat back in his chair more comfortably, still peering at her. He laid a finger against the side of his chin. "A scholar with a violent streak. How delightful."

Hermione gaped at him. "I'm not violent!"

The words slipped out before she could stop herself, and the boys all began looking at each other. When she caught sight of Ron whispering something to Harry with a quiet snort, she turned to glare at him.

"Don't you **dare** say anything, either." she warned.

Harry and Ron both went still and shut their mouths, while Alucard chuckled with mirth. "Ah, and **feisty** as well." He pointed at her and looked back at Sir Integra. "I like this girl, master. May I have her?"

The question made everyone's attention snap back to him and several mouths dropped open in shock. But before anyone could protest, the knight pulled a metal tin out of her pocket to retrieve a new cigar.

"I'm afraid you're too late, Alucard." she told him as she snipped off the end and lit it. "The Weasleys have already kindly agreed to take her in." she inhaled deeply then blew a plume of smoke out in his direction. "Besides, I've already allowed you to keep two women as it is. I believe between Syn and Seras, you have more than enough to entertain yourself with."

The vampire scoffed at her. "But I only have a redhead and a blonde." he pointed out. "I need a brunette to complete my collection."

Next to him, Seras' mouth fell open, while Pip and Mihnea both snickered.

"Your **collection**?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "**Master!**"

Connie's hand went up into the air. "I would like to point out that **I'm** a brunette." she announced. "Don't I count for anything?"

Alucard focused on her. "Indeed you are, young master." he agreed. "How could I possibly forget about you? Of course, if you wish to be considered as one of mine, I would have to treat you as such." he paused and turned his gaze toward the twins - George specifically. "Which means that any suitors who so much as **think** about taking your virginity would be skinned alive and made into my next meal."

George stared at him, frozen, then pushed himself as far back as he could without actually moving his chair away from the table.

"Uh... Got it."

Bernadette noticed his reaction and gave him a sympathetic look.

"Don't let 'im zcare you too much." he said helpfully. He jerked a thumb toward Seras. " 'e told me zhe zame zhing zhe first time I asked 'er out, and 'e 'asn't killed me yet."

The vampire quirked a brow at him. "Are you tempting me, frog?"

"Non!" the captian replied immediately, violently shaking his head. "No temptation 'ere..." his words trailed off and he looked toward the door at the back of the room with wide eyes. " 'ot **damn**, momma hen!" he let out an appreciative whistle. "You look **zmoking**!"

The exclaimation came out of nowhere and everyone turned to see what he was talking about. Miss Newsom had come back and she now looked completely different. Her loose, comfy clothes had been exchanged for a short, form fitting black dress that showed off her curves and knee high black leather boots with stilleto heels. A thick wool coat was drapped over one arm, and her vivid red hair was neatly brushed and pulled into a more controlled style which left her neck bare. She had apparently been deftly keeping herself covered before because now every inch of visible skin bore various dark bruises and... bite marks? They didn't really detract from her good looks, but they were still violent enough to capture attention. The first thought that popped into Hermione's head was that she must have gotten them during a fight at the Burrow or something. But the rest of her friends looked taken aback by their appearance as well, and Alucard was giving the woman this... **hungry** looking stare that made her wonder if he were the one responsible for them instead.

Syn paused midstep when she heard what Bernadette said, then brightened. "Thank you." She turned her attention to Alucard. "Are we going?"

The vampire's lips pulled into a demonic looking smirk and he smoothly rose from his seat to walk over to her. Side by side, he was more than a full foot taller. "Of course." he purred. "This might just prove to be more interesting than if I dragged you there undressed."

The woman glared at him and swatted at his shoulder. "Shut your mouth!" she exclaimed. "This is bad enough as it is. I **hate** wearing these things."

Alucard just chuckled at her and offered his arm. She slid her hand through to grip his elbow and they both turned to leave. However, Syn paused, like she were remembering something. She quickly turned and tossed something - a small bottle, it looked like - through the air toward Bassarab. The boy caught it in midair.

Miss Newsom watched as he slid the bottle into his pocket. "Can I get a thank you?" she prodded.

Mihnea rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Thank you, mom."

"You're very welcome." she replied, smiling approvingly. She shot a small glance toward the collection of wizards, then pointed at him. "Play nice." she instructed.

Bassarab sighed like he found her manner annoying, but when he saw his mother quirking a brow at him, he straighted and gave her a nod of understanding. Satisfied with his response, the pair then turned their backs on them, Syn muttering something to Alucard about killing him if he let anyone get too close to her. The vampire let out an evil sounding laugh and pulled her closer to him. They took two steps forward, then disappeared in a swirl of black shadows that materialized out of nowhere. Hermione had never seen anything like it before.

As everyone just stared open mouthed at the empty spot where the two had been, Sir Integra cleared her throat.

"You will have to overlook him." she said. "Alucard is many things, but 'subtle' has never been one of them. He's very fond of popping up out of nowhere and frightening people just to get a reaction."

_Overlook him?_ Hermione wondered. How on earth could a person just 'overlook' something like that? The vampire's sudden appearance and departure left such a powerful impression that no one seemed to know what to do or how to react.

"Now then." the knight announced, glancing sideways at Connie. "If Alucard is right about the time, then you'd best go off and get dressed. We don't want to be late for **your** appointment."

_Appointment?_ Constance had somewhere to be as well? The girl herself didn't look the least bit pleased about it. She slumped and stuck out her bottom lip.

"I **really** don't want to go." she said.

One of Sir Integra's eyebrows rose. "I don't recall giving you a choice in the matter."

Constance huffed. "Mom..." she whined.

"Constance..." the knight replied, using the exact same tone. She gave her daughter a look that was strangely playful and serious at the same time and reached over to pat her back. "A lady doesn't slump. Sit up straight." she instructed. "Now, the simple fact of the matter is that when it comes to vision, the odds are stacked against you. Your eyesight is the most valuable asset you have, so it must be taken care of."

"Eyesight?" Harry questioned. He sat up straighter in his chair and looked down at her. "You're getting your eyes checked?"

"**Unfortunately**." Connie replied, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly. "And I honestly don't see what the point is. I can see perfectly fine."

Bassarab snorted. "Of **course** you can." he said sarcastically. "I suppose that's why you've never been able to hit the center of a target?"

"Shut your mouth!" the girl exclaimed, throwing her napkin across the table at him. "You're not helping!"

"We don't throw things at the table, Constance." her mother chided. When she saw Mihnea sticking his tongue out at his cousin in triumph, she glanced at him sideways. "And young men keep their tongues in their mouths where they belong."

Bassarab froze and pulled his tongue back into his mouth. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good boy." Sir Integra said, then turned back to Constance. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but having to press your nose so far into a book that it touches the pages in order to read does not equate with being able to see 'perfectly fine'. You **need** glasses."

"But I don't **want** them!" Connie exclaimed, horrified by the idea. "Glasses are awful!"

"Excuse me?" the knight asked. "Both your father and I wear glasses."

"Hey!" Harry said with a small show of offense. "I wear glasses too, thank you!"

Connie immediately sobered and looked over at him apologetically. "I didn't mean it that way." she assured him. "You look good with glasses." she turned back to her mother. "I'm just saying that I think **I'd** look awful with them."

Seras coughed and held up a hand. "That's not true." she told her helpfully. She smiled brightly. "I think you'd look **cute** with glasses."

"Oui!" Bernadette added with enthusiasm. "And check zhis out: eef you don't like zhem, zhey make zhese zuper cool zhings now called **contacts**." he held up his hands with the fingers spread out. "Zhey're zhe ztuff of zhe future!"

Constance didn't look the least bit impressed by his teasing. "Thank you so much for informing me of that, because I had **no idea** what contacts were." she muttered.

The man just smiled. "You're welcome! Zhat's what I'm 'ere for!"

Connie threatened to hit him in the face with her fork, but Sir Integra berated her a second time about her lack of manners. She was then sent off to get dressed - which the girl begrudgingly agreed to do. Once she was gone, the knight politely excused herself to get ready and gave the Captain some instructions about being present in the barracks to make sure the guard changed smoothly. Or some other type of military thing that made little sense to their untrained ears. In the end, they were left sitting at the breakfast table with Mihnea and Seras. And from the way the blonde vampire was yawning, she wasn't going to be around for much longer either.

"I'm sorry." she apologized, raising a hand to cover her mouth. "This is **really** late for me. I should probably be heading on too..." she glanced at Bassarab sideways. "Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

Mihnea's mug halted halfway to his mouth and he shot an unappreciative glare in her direction. "I don't need a **babysitter**, Seras."

Seras wrinkled her nose at him. "I didn't say you needed a babysitter." she replied. "But you have to go down to the hospital wing later don't you? I can stay up for a while if you want me to."

Bassarab's expression shifted to one of intense dislike. "Don't remind me." he muttered. He took a sip of his coffee. "I'm not doing that until mom and dad get back."

The blonde vampire pressed her lips together. "You sure?"

"**Yes**, Seras, I'm sure." Mihnea said with an irritated huff. "Now will you **please** stop fawning? It drives me crazy."

She sat back and held up her hands defensively. "Suit yourself." she told him. "Just thought I'd offer."

Seras pushed her chair back and said a few final words of goodbye, then went off. They all watched her walk out, then turned back around in their chairs.

"Wow." George said, looking amazed. "I never would have thought your sister would be like that. She was..."

Bassarab fixed an intent gaze upon him. "She was **what**, Weasley?"

"Nice." he finished with a cough. "And... normal."

"And **hot**." Fred said wistfully, still staring at the door she had disappeared through.

"Fredrick Joseph Weasley!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exclaimed together.

His mother reached to give him a sound smack, but Fred ducked before she made contact.

"What!" he said. "Just cause Georgie isn't allowed to look anymore doesn't mean I've been neutered. She was right sexy! Did you **see** her ti..."

The loud, pointed sound of a throat being cleared interrupted him.

"Say one more word Weasley, and I'll come across this table and rip the tongue right out of your mouth." Mihnea warned in a low voice.

Fred went very still. "Ti... eeth. I was totally going to say 'teeth'."

Bassarab looked unconvinced. "Of course you were."

"I was!" he insisted. He grabbed at George's arm as if to pull him in the middle. "He'll tell you! I've always thought there's nothing sexier than a girl with awesome teeth. Right Georgie?"

George appeared to be restraining himself from rolling his eyes at his brother's behavior. "Uh huh. Cause you'd **never** notice anything below a girl's chin."

"Or above her waist..." Fred added. He started getting that faraway look in his eyes again, but came back to himself when he noticed the glare Mihnea was giving him. He coughed. "Just saying, mate."

Mihnea continued to stare him down for a moment or two, then sniffed and sat back. "Keep in mind that my sister is **taken** and she's been with Pip for as long as I've been alive. The French are known for fighting dirty, so you don't have a snowball's chance in hell." he waved a hand through the air. "But if you feel like losing a few important body parts, you go right ahead and say that where someone else could hear it. Pip might just think it's funny enough to not do anything, but my dad would impale you on an iron spike and roast you alive. "

Fred winced and simpered down. "Gotcha. No pissing off Dracula."

"Wise decision."

The subject of Mihnea's father coming up made George look nervous all over again. "Uh... hey, he wasn't really serious about that whole 'skinning me alive and eating me' business, was he?" he asked carefully.

Bassarab's expression remained blank. "The answer should be obvious if you were paying attention to the way he worded it."

George shut his mouth. It was clear from his expression that he was thinking of the vampire's mention of 'virginity'. Hermione couldn't restrain herself from adding her two cents.

"Weren't you listening to him?" she asked. "He specifically told Connie: 'if you wish to be considered as one of mine, I'll have to treat you as such'. He was saying that anything he does to you is **her** choice."

George blinked at her. "Is **that** what that meant? Honestly, I was a little preoccupied with the whole being eaten thing to pay attention to that part."

Across the table, Mihnea clapped his hands noiselessly. "Bravo, Granger. Finally, someone with a brain." he tapped at the side of his head. "You've got to be on your toes and pay attention to **everything** when you're in this house. My dad is all about mind games. He never lies, but everything he says can be can taken about a thousand different ways depending on how well you're listening."

They all gaped at him. That was beyond intimidating.

"Merlin's beard..." Ron murmured. "Everything? Like... **everything**, everything?"

"Well... not **everything**." Mihnea conceeded. "It's more... between ninety and ninety-five percent, depending on what sort of mood he's in."

"Ninety..." Fred began, then shook his head. "Okay, mom you go ahead and get ready to hit me 'cause I can't help it." he said, then went back to Bassarab. "How the **bloody hell **do you put up with that day in and day out?"

Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley immediately popped him and warned him to watch his language. Mihnea just took in the sight and shrugged.

"You get used to it." he told him. "This is the reason I'm in Slytherin house. Mind games and manipulation are our specialities."

Ginny frowned then moved to speak for the first time since they had come downstairs. "But... if that's true, then why isn't Connie in Slytherin?" she asked. "She's lived here all her life too."

"Because no matter how much no one wants to admit it, Gryffindor and Slytherin are extremely similar." Bassarab replied. "We share most of the same qualities and traits, but have them in different amounts. Ever since my first year at school, Professor McGonagall goes on and on about how I should have been a Gryffindor. Then after Connie's first Potions class, Snape swore up and down she was a Slytherin."

Harry's eyes went wide. "No way."

"Yes way." Mihnea affirmed. "They argue about it all the time. I firmly believe the only reason they haven't traded us off is because they both want us in their own house and neither one is going to give up the fight."

Hermione stared at him in astonishment. She couldn't imagine either him or Connie being in any house other than the ones they had been placed in. But she was more curious about he had knowledge about that sort of back and forth going on between a set of teachers.

"How on earth could you know about that?" she asked. "I've never heard Snape or McGonagall say anything like that before."

"Being the pet of the Potions Master has it's advantages." Bassarab replied. He pointed at himself. "He lets me assist in preparing things for lessons and keeping his storeroom in order, so I'm usually not very far from his office." he paused to pick up his mug of coffee to drink down the last bit of it. As he lifted it to his lips, he shot a meaningful look at her over the rim. "I've always liked the job because I have access to a whole list of things that most students never get to see or use. And if anything mysteriously goes **missing**, I'm the first to notice."

She, Harry, and Ron all went very still and shot small glances at each other. Thank God the others didn't notice because their infiltration of the Slytherin dormitories had gone unnoticed. They had agreed not to speak of it to anyone other than Connie. Mr. Weasley took the comment as purely conversational and decided to go along with it because it was neutral territory.

"The kids have all mentioned that you were in Slytherin, but we've not heard much else, I'm afraid." he said. "It sounds like Professor Snape has given you a lot of responsibility. Do you find things going missing often?"

Mihnea's attention shifted toward him. "All the time." he replied. "It's usually ordinary things that aren't that much trouble to replace. I figure it's students working on things outside of class they don't want to use up their supplies on." he sighed. "It's one of those things that happens, but it's still annoying because I get stuck with the paperwork. I would think that anyone with a lick of sense would know that if they were having trouble and really **needed** something, they could just ask."

"Absolutely." Mr. Weasley agreed. "Of course, things were a bit different when I was in school, but I don't recall having any trouble getting additional supplies for things we worked on outside of class. Do you Molly?"

"Well, I don't know about it being no trouble at all, but I certainly never had to resort to stealing." the woman replied. She turned to give Fred and George a stern look. "You two had **better** not be taking things from your Potions teacher for those 'Wheezes' of yours, and I mean it."

The twins both went slack jawed. "Good God, mother, why is it that every time something like this comes up, you always blame us?" George demanded.

"Yeah! You act like we're the only ones on the planet who have nicked something before!" Fred added.

"Because I am your **mother** and I know how you two **are**." she said firmly. "It's bad enough you've gotten that rediculous idea in your heads in the first place without you going around making lord knows what sort of trouble to do it."

While the three of them commenced arguing amongst themselves, Mihnea sat back with his mug, and gave her, Harry, and Ron that unnoticable glance again. Hermione then realized what he was doing. Pay attention to everything in this house, he said. If what she gathered from his statements was correct, then he was offering them assistance in the future. All he wanted them to do was ask for it.

* * *

><p>Yay for long chapters! Boo for long update times... but long chapters makes it betters!<p> 


	53. Reasons and Gift Giving

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Well?" Ron prodded.

Constance studied the two boys for a long moment, considering her options, then sighed. "Alright, fine." she conceeded. "But you can't laugh."

Harry gave her a reassuring nod. "No laughing." he promised

Ron bobbed his head. "Absolutely none." he agreed. "Let's see then."

Constance didn't like the idea of what she was about to do one bit, but it was something she was going to have to get used to. Harry and Ron had popped into her room not long after she woke up and the first thing they badgered her about was seeing her new glasses. She might as well just bite the bullet and get started now. Pushing herself up from the floor where the three of them were sitting, she headed over to her dresser to retrieve the spectacles she had been prescribed the day before. After returning to her spot, Connie carefully slid them onto her face so they could see what they looked like.

Ron immediately snorted. "You look like a librarian!"

The girl's face twisted up in irritation and she leaned forward to smack his shoulder. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

She moved to pull off the wretched things, but Harry reached out a hand to stop her. "Don't do that." he told her. "They look nice. I think they suit you."

Constance wasn't so sure. Harry was the sort of person to say something like that just to be nice. "Do you really?" she asked.

"I mean it. They really do." he said sincerely, then frowned. "If wearing glasses bothers you so much, why didn't you just get contacts?"

"I **tried**." she told him. The memory of the event made her cross her arms over her chest and sniff in dislike. "Sat in that bleeding office for hours trying to keep my eyes pried open for that man to pop them in. It burned like fire and nothing we did could make them stay in for more than a second or two. The doctor said my eyes were too sensitive to bear them and if we kept trying to force it, I would wind up with scratched corneas."

The process alone had caused enough irritation that her eyes had been a watery mess for long after. Constance really didn't want to endure that sort of torture again, so she finally agreed to give up and just do things the easy way. Harry and Ron both winced at the mental image provided to them and she sighed, deciding to move on to some other topic.

"Did anyone say when Hermione and the others would be back?" she asked.

The funerals for all of the casulaties were being held today, and Mr and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny, had accompanied Hermione to hers. Harry hadn't been invitied to his uncle's funeral, so he had elected to remain at the manor with the boys and Connie. Since they still weren't sure of who was responsible for the attacks or what other sort of plans they might have, her mother said it was best to have as few people out as possible - for safety's sake. Constance had decided to stay home and give Ginny the opportunity to go, since she didn't get to see the way muggles did things very often. Not that it was the younger girl's primary reason for going of course, but Hermione herself had agreed that it was fair.

Ron frowned thoughtfully and shook his head. "No." he replied. "They left early, but Hermione made it sound like it wouldn't be more than a couple of hours. When it's over, mom and dad are only going to stop here long enough to drop off the girls, then they'll be off again to go to that Ministry meeting."

_Oh, right_. That was being held today today as well. Constance hadn't been around for the actual planning but it sounded like it was going to take place at the Prime Minister's office, since that was the most 'neutral' ground for either of them. Hopefully, all of the sticky details could be worked out today so they'd be able to move on.

"So it's just you boys here?" she asked. It was more of a comment than an actual question. "What are Fred and George up to?"

Harry shot a look at Ron, then shook his head. "We really don't know." he told her. "They ran off pretty fast, so there's no telling."

"I think they're with your dad." Ron offered. "He mentioned something last night about showing them something or other today. I don't remember exactly what it was, but it sounded cool." he made a face. Like he had been left out of something and didn't appreciate it. "They disappeared as soon as mom was out of sight and we hadn't completely woken up, so we couldn't figure out where they had gone."

Constance blinked at them in bewilderment. Since when did not knowing where someone had gone stop them? "Meaning you didn't know where to start looking, or you couldn't find them and gave up?"

Both boys suddenly looked sheepish, as if they'd been caught.

"A bit of both, I guess." Harry admitted. He jerked a thumb toward Ron. "We looked around for a while, but he started getting nervous about Alucard popping out of nowhere to eat him."

"I did **not**!" the ginger haired boy exclaimed, affronted. When both Constance and Harry arched brows at his outburst, he simpered down a bit. "Okay, fine. Maybe I **was** a little worried about it..." he coughed. "Anyway, it didn't feel right, going around in this big house not knowing where anything is. We were lucky to find your room. And... this might sound crazy, but I swear sometimes it feels like things move around here like they do at school."

Connie smiled softly. She had never experienced that problem herself, but she'd heard new staff members complain about the same thing often enough to know that it happened. Her dad and aunt had explained once that the blood seal they had forged over a decade ago had been in place so long that it had begun to develop it's own personality. Hellsing manor tended to play around with new people within it's walls until it got used to them being around. Nothing malicious, but just enough to keep them confused and on their toes. However, she didn't feel it was prudent to tell her friends about that, since they might take it as something else they had to worry about. Things were weird enough as it was without adding to it.

"Hmm..." she said, tapping her chin. "Would you like me to show you the way then? Unless he was planning on showing them something big, they'll most likely be in dad's office."

Both boys eagerly nodded, but Harry paused thoughtfully. "It's not going to be a big deal, is it?" he asked. "I mean, he works on important stuff like weapons, right? If there's something we don't need to get in the middle of..."

Constance stared at him. "Since when do you care about getting into things that are none of your business?" she challenged.

The boy sat back a bit and coughed. "I think this is a **little** different, seeing as how it's your dad and all."

She conceeded that he had a point. "Well, to be honest, my parents don't work on anything very big this time of year unless they absolutely have to." she told him. "And if Fred and George **are** with him, then he can't be doing anything too important. He won't mind us popping in. Besides, you guys need to know where the offices are in case you ever need something and no one's around to take you." She pushed herself up off the floor in a smooth motion. "Come on."

It didn't take much more convincing to get the boys to follow her. Whatever her dad talked to the twins about, it had them curious as well. Edmund's office was located on the same floor on the opposite side of the house. There was a fair bit of walking involved, but they got there with no trouble. Connie approached the door and gave a solid rap to announce her presence.

Nothing happened.

The girl frowned and knocked again. When she recieved no answer and couldn't hear anything coming from inside, she twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Her father's office was neat and orderly - aside from a few stray pieces of paper left out on his desk. That was sign enough that he had been there recently, but neither him nor the twins were there now.

"That's odd..." she commented.

Ron and Harry both looked over her shoulders to catch a glimpse for themselves. "This is your dad's office?" Ron asked. "I guess he was showing them something big after all..."

Constance shook her head. "No, I'm sure if he was planning something with them that had to be done outside or in the barracks, he would have said something about it." she told them. "The only thing I remember him specifically offering to show them was..."

Her words trailed off as realization hit. _Gunpowder_. Of course they wouldn't be in her dad's office. It wasn't set up to handle small-scale experimentation for things like that.

"I know where they are." she announced.

Connie motioned for them to follow, then pulled the door shut before heading further down. Four doors down and on the opposite side of the hall was another office. And this one had very obvious sounds of activity coming from within that all of them could hear.

"So you're saying it's better to just leave magic out of it altogether?" One of the twins asked.

"I wouldn't go that far." Edmund replied. "I just mean that things like this are sensitive to the smallest change and magic might be affecting your results. As a rule, shortcuts almost always reduce quality. So... I would say you should do as much as you can without magic and save the spells for adding the final touches."

"Hmmm... Can't say I've ever heard that one before." Either Fred or George commented. "All the fireworks I've ever seen are made with magic..."

"You're thinking of fireworks made by **wizards**." Aunt Syn interjected. Harry and Ron both looked surprised by the sound of her voice. "Have you ever seen muggle fireworks?"

"Uh... no." the twins replied together.

"Hellfire and damnnation, tell me you're not serious?" Ed asked, sounding astonished. "That's almost blasphemous! We have to fix this. I expect you'll be here for New Years, so we'll make sure you get to see a **proper** fireworks show. Magical fireworks can do a lot of things that the muggle sort can't, but on the whole, muggle fireworks are brighter, have more vivid colors, and shoot higher and wider than anything a wizard could come up with."

"Whoa... really? **Wicked**!"

"Yep." Syn replied. "You have to be careful about where you point the business end, though. Ed fooled around with making fireworks for a while when he was younger, and I wound up getting shot in the back of the head with a Roman Candle."

They heard Edmund scoff. "I maintain that was an accident."

"It was **not** a bleeding accident, you ass!" the woman exclaimed. "You were aiming to hit me! And when my hair caught fire, you **laughed**!"

"I wasn't laughing because your hair was on fire." her father countered. "I was laughing because you screamed like a banshee on steroids and ran around making it worse. If you had just rolled around on the ground for a bit, it would have gone right out."

"I was eight years old, Edmund. Eight year old girls tend to stop thinking rationally when a part of their body is **on fire**. I swear, if my mother hadn't shown up to beat the devil out of you, you would have let me burn alive!"

"I would not. I just would have waited until all your hair was gone, then put out the fire."

Harry and Ron gaped at the door in amusement, trying not to laugh, while Constance rolled her eyes. Her dad and aunt were going at each other like they always did and from the loud laugher, she gathered Fred and George were highly entertained by the story. Deciding that it was probably best to go on and interrupt at that point, she raised a hand to knock on the door. The sounds of laughing and conversation died down and Syn's voice called out in response.

"Come in!"

The girl pushed the door open to reveal her aunt's office. While it was just as orderly as Edmund's was, Syn's office was set up in a completely different way - showing off her personality and the fact that she did a great deal of experimentation and building within it. Though she had never explicitly said so, anyone with experience in magic could tell the room had been modified to be larger than should be possible. Constance and Mihnea both swore that it grew a few feet bigger every year, if not more so. Bookshelves lined every available wall, showing a massive collection of books that ranged from common muggle literature to ancient magical books that were incredibly hard to find due to their rarity. The far left side had shelves that actually jutted out into the room itself, arranged to make it look like a kind of maze one had to navigate through. The few spaces delegated to things other than books were filled with bottles and boxes of ingredients and supplies she often used in her work, along with pictures and doodads she had collected over the years and chose to display. Long strings of what looked like odd shaped pearls - but were actually fangs upon closer inspection - hung from various corners and jutting out edges of furniture. Near her desk and work table there were glass gun cases displaying various weapons from different time periods (a few of the modern ones being those Syn had designed and built herself). The sitting area was set up in an open space on the right side, just in front of the french doors that opened out onto a balcony. It was there that Edmund and Syn were sitting in comfy padded chairs across from the sofa where the twins were. Between them was a large, square table set out with a selection of ingredients they were working with. It looked like all of them had been carefully cutting and grinding things up to be mixed before they were interrupted.

"Good morning." Edmund greeted when he looked up and saw them. "I was wondering when you would show up."

The twins both looked up from their work and turned to peer over the back of the couch. "Oh, hey!" they said in unision. George paused to give Constance a long look, his lips twiching, then pulling into a wide grin. "Aw... the glasses are **cute**."

Connie wrinkled her nose, though she was secretly thankful he didn't think they were awful. "Shut up, George."

"It's true!" he insisted. He nudged Fred in the ribs. "What do you say, Freddie?"

"Downright **adorable**." Fred agreed, his smile mirroring his brother's.

The girl just crossed her arms over her chest and huffed at them. She didn't appreciate being given reminders that she looked different now. Her dad just chuckled at her reaction, while Syn smirked knowingly.

"See?" she offered. "And you were so worried about it." she clucked her tongue, then turned her attention to the two boys standing behind her staring at the weird and wonderful contents of the room with astonishment. "I haven't seen you two around very much. Come pull up a chair." she paused and looked back at Fred and George. "You don't mind having an audience, do you?"

They both looked at each other, then shook their heads. "No, we're cool." they said.

Fred shot a serious glance back toward Ron. "Tell mom what we're doing and you'll be sleeping with spiders for weeks." he threatened.

Ron shook himself out of examining the closest strand of vampire teeth, only to stiffen and go several shades white in the face. "Since when do I ever run squealing to mom about the stuff you do?"

"Just giving you fair warning, little brother." Fred replied. "We've had to start from stratch too many times to risk it happening again. One word and you're **dead**."

Ron still looked offended (and concerned about the threat), but bobbed his head in agreement all the same. The three of them pulled up empty chairs from the collection nearby to join them. Once all of them were comfortable, Connie's dad cleared his throat.

"So is there any particular reason why you're here, or were you just exploring?" he asked.

"Well... actually, we sort of heard you talking to them the other day and it sounded interesting." Ron began slowly, nodding toward the twins. "We weren't snooping around or anything, I swear."

God, he was still acting so nervous. Constance couldn't supress the urge to roll her eyes. "They would have come by themselves, but Ron was afraid of Alucard doing something." she informed them.

Ron's mouth fell open, indignant that she had mentioned that, while her aunt just laughed.

"He's asleep right now, so you don't have anything to worry about." she told him, still looking amused. Her expression shifted to become more sympathetic. "If it makes you feel better, you're completely safe in here. Alucard isn't allowed in my office for the time being."

Connie blinked in surprise. She hadn't heard anything about that. "Since when?" she asked. "Alucard comes in here all the time!"

"Since I started working on something he doesn't need to know about." the woman replied. She went back to carefully breaking a large clump of material into smaller pieces with her tools. "He's been banned from my office since the end of November."

That was strange. Constance couldn't imagine what her aunt could be working on that Alucard couldn't know about unless it had something to do with him. Maybe it was something for Christmas? She decided to drop it rather than prod while her friends were around. She didn't have a problem with standing up to the master vampire and keeping her mouth shut, but if they knew something he didn't, she had no doubt he would try to torture them for information. Best to leave it alone until she could ask in a more secure environment.

Both boys looked a lot more comfortable knowing that Alucard wouldn't be able to pop up where they were to do anything to them. Harry turned his attention toward the table where they were now mixing things together.

"So... what **are** you doing?" he asked.

George paused in emptying out his mortar and pestle onto a sheet of wax paper. "What, this?" he asked. "We're learning how to make our own gunpowder."

"Yep." Fred said with a nod of agreement. "Never would have thought it would be this easy either. It's just charcoal, sulfur, and saltpetre." he looked back toward Edmund and Syn, as if for confirmation. "That's all, right?"

"That's it." Connie's father said. "Everything else is just proportion."

"Wait..." Ron commented, confused. "Is this for those fireworks you've been working on? I thought you guys had plenty of gunpowder for those things?"

"Well, yeah, we do, but it's not working right." George informed him. "The only ones we can get to fly are the tiny bottle rockets. Everything bigger than that just fizzles out."

Fred pointed at Syn. "She says it's because we bought the gunpowder instead of making it ourselves."

The redhead sat back a bit and held up her hands. "Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with **buying** gunpowder." she said. "It's just that no two people make it the same way, and what works great for some people doesn't work for others. If you aren't involved in the mixing process, you can't guarantee it'll do what you want." she then gathered all the now-mixed gunpowder into three separate piles and stood to brush her hands off on the front of her pants. "Okie dokie, now the fun part."

The twins both went wide eyed with hopefulness. "Blowing it up?"

"Absolutely." Edmund said with an approving grin. He stood up himself to search out the tools he would need to set up fuses, then waved at them to get up and step back. "Alright you lot, best give it plenty of room since we eyeballed everything instead of using scales."

"Whoa, wait!" Harry exclaimed nervously. "You're going to set it off in **here**?"

Syn glanced over at him reassuringly. "We do it all the time." she said. "It'll be fine."

Harry and Ron both looked cautiously interested in what was going to happen, while Fred and George were just downright excited. The boys and Connie all got up and stood back while the different piles of gunpowder were set on their own glass plates and rigged with fuses. Aunt Syn then placed a glass topper over each to contain the explosion and stood back herself.

"The far right is Fred's, the far left is George's, and the one in the middle is ours." she announced. "You guys might want to put your fingers in your ears. This is going to be loud." she instructed, then inclined her head to Ed. "We're clear."

"Starting with Fred's then." Connie's dad said. He readied his hand on the switch that would light the fuses from a safe distance. "Fire in the hole!"

Fred's gunpowder gave a nice, loud pop and a bright spark upon lighting, but it wasn't terribly impressive. George's fared much better. It lit faster and gave off an explosion big enough to stain the inside of the glass topper a faint black color. But it was Syn and Edmund's gunpowder that took the prize. When it went off, the sound was loud enough to make the ears pop even with them being covered, and the force of the explosion sent the glass topper covering the plate flying several feet to hit the wall. They all instinctively ducked at the sight of movement and stayed down until they were absolutely certain nothing else was going to blow. Once the dusty smoke began to clear, they carefully raised their heads to peek at the table.

"Sweet mother of Merlin!" the twins shouted in unison, jumping up from the crouch they had dropped into. "That was **awesome**!"

Constance found it hilarious that her dad and aunt were proud enough of their handiwork to give regal looking bows in response. "Why, thank you!" they said together.

"What was the difference though?" George went on. "We all used the same proportions, didn't we?"

"Consider this a lesson in precision." Edmund replied knowledgably. "Everything we did here was guestimated. Syn and I have been doing this for years, so we've gotten good about judging things by sight, but as you can see, the smallest difference in measurement from batch to batch makes a huge difference. You'll need to invest in a good set of scales and keep accurate notes if you want to get the same result every time."

Fred and George both nodded, appearing to file everything away in their brains for future use. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron were looking on with amazement.

"Wow..." Ron breathed. "You guys do this stuff here all the time? That's so cool!"

"It's just part of the job." Aunt Syn replied with a shrug. She looked at the twins and pointed toward their experiment. "You two clear that stuff off and I'll get something to wipe down the table."

"Righto." they agreed, and moved to do as they were told while the redhead disappeared into a small room to fetch cleaning supplies.

Connie's dad helped them get everything off the table and back to their proper places. Syn returned with a spray bottle and roll of paper towels to clean the residue left behind by the miniature explosions. Once everything was back in order, everyone was allowed to return to their seats again. When the twins questions about how to make colors in their fireworks without magic were satiated (different chemicals and metals change the color of fire when they're burned, Edmund explained), Harry and Ron began chiming in with some of their own. It was mostly about the sorts of things they did with their jobs and other 'experiments' they performed that they might be able to see. Constance thought it was nice that they were taking such a huge interest and interacting with her family in such a normal way. Or... as normal as could be expected, anyway.

In the midst of all of this, a knock sounded on the door, making all of them grow quiet. Aunt Syn called out for them to enter and the door swung open to reveal Mihnea standing there. He immediately focused his attention on Fred and George.

"I **knew** you two had to be involved when I heard all that noise." He commented. He paused to sniff at the air. "Gunpowder?"

Before anyone could respond, a bright, red head popped out from behind him to peer inside.

"Gunpowder?" Ginny asked. "Is **that** what you're doing? I thought I smelled something familiar when we came in..." her words dropped off and she went still when she saw Harry sitting amongst them. "Oh. I didn't know everyone was in here."

"**Ginny**?" all of her brothers questioned in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

They must have finally gotten back from the funeral. However, while she wasn't surprised that Ginny had come looking for them, she was a bit taken aback to see her with Mihnea of all people. The girl shuffled her feet and shoved a lock of hair behind one of her ears.

"We just got back." she reported. "No one was in their rooms when I finished changing, so I thought I'd try to find you and... I... sort of got lost."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and Mihnea cleared his throat. "We ran into each other on the other side of the house and I was already on my way over here, so I offered to show her the way." he explained. He squared his shoulders and looked at Syn. "Dad and I are finished, so I'm ready for you to start engraving."

It looked like aunt Syn was aware of what he was talking about and didn't need any further explanation. "You know I can't do anything until I have something to engrave **on**." she pointed out.

Mihnea rolled his eyes and pulled a small white box out of his pocket. "Got that too."

"Oh?" the woman asked, her eyes lighting up. "Let me see!"

Wordlessly, he walked over to hand the box to her while Ginny silently followed him inside. While the younger girl settled down in a chair near Constance, Syn opened the box to peek inside.

"Ooooh... **very** nice." aunt Syn said approvingly. She gestured for him to give her something else, to which Mihnea responded by pulling a folded scrap of paper from his pocket. The woman examined it as well, then handed both back to him. "Put them on my desk and I'll start working on it when I get back."

Edmund arched a brow. "Guard duty?"

"**Yes**." the woman said with an irritated huff. She got up to retrieve her coat and gun holsters. "Just pray that God-awful Malfoy person isn't there, or you might have to bail me out of prison for murder."

She didn't leave much room for explanation as she quickly got her things together. Connie's dad leaned sideways to call out as she exited.

"Just don't make too much of a mess! Integra gets moody when blood sprays in her face, and I don't feel like sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"I make no promises!" the woman fired back.

He chuckled as the door snapped shut behind her, then noticed all the weird looks he was getting from his audience. "It's a joke." he assured them. "Everyone in this house has a well developed sense of black humor. It keeps us from going too insane."

Fred and George exchanged a glance. "Actually, if she was talking about Lucius Malfoy, he probably deserves whatever he gets." they said with mutual sniffs of dislike. "We just didn't know the meeting had started already, is all."

Ed shifted in his seat, then waved a hand. "Integra thought it was better to go ahead and get the nasty arguing done before pulling any of you into it." he said, then studied each of them. "Not that there wont be more of it once Syn and your parents show up, but hopefully the worse will be out of the way."

Connie herself figured that there was going to be fighting no matter how much time was spent there or who showed up, but there was little that could be done about it. She shook the idea out of her head and looked at Ginny.

"How was the funeral?" she questioned.

The girl's face fell and she pressed her lips together in a thin line. "It went as well as it could, I suppose." she replied. "Hermione... you know how she is. She doesn't like crying in front of people. The one thing she wanted to do before the whole thing started was to look at her parents one last time to say goodbye. But... the people there said the caskets had to stay closed and she was really torn up about it. It was so awful..."

Everyone sobered and looked down at the floor. Connie wasn't really sure what to say. It had to be terrible, not having any sort of closure, but there was no way give her what she wanted. There were no bodies left for her to look at or say goodbye to.

"Where is she now?" Ron asked.

"In her room." his sister told him. She clasped her hands together in her lap. "When we got back here I tried talking to her, but she said she wanted to be alone for a while. I didn't want to push and make things worse, but... we should be able to do **something** for her! I can't imagine how awful it must be. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and she doesn't have anything to look forward to!"

That was another facet to the whole situation that made everyone feel worse. Ron carefully looked around and coughed.

"Well, yeah, but what **can** we do?" he asked. "I mean... we got a few small things to send to her, but nothing that would mean that much. Just the normal stuff we always give each other for Christmas."

"I don't think it would have to be something big." Constance said thoughtfully. "But... maybe we could plan to do something special. I think she needs it right now."

As everyone sat quietly, the gears in their heads turning to work out a solution, Harry suddenly sat upright. "I have an idea."

When he explained what it was he was thinking, everyone agreed that it sounded wonderful. It was absolutely **perfect** and Hermione would love it. Ginny was the one to point out the problem.

"It sounds great, Harry, but how are we supposed to do that?" she asked, looking around. "Does anyone know how to get there?"

The boys all sobered and shook their heads. However, Mihnea's voice broke through the silence, reminding them of his presence.

"I do." he said, drawing their attention.

Harry turned around in his chair to blink at him in surprise. "You'd help?" he asked. "Not that there's a problem with that, but you don't really have a reason to..."

"You weren't **there**, Potter." Mihnea said firmly, interrupting him. "I was. I saw what happened with my own two eyes. I have plenty of reasons to help you. Besides, I'd like to see how you intend to get out of this house by yourselves." he gave him a long look, then crossed his arms over his chest and turned his gaze toward Connie's father. "Would you have a problem with us taking a car and sneaking out for a while?"

Edmund had remained relatively silent during the whole thing, choosing to observe rather than participate. Mihnea's question caused him to cock his head to the side thoughtfully.

"Under normal circumstances, I would say 'yes', but I think this situation calls for an exception." he said after a moment. He rubbed his chin and looked around at them seriously. "Be as discrete as possible. Get what you need and come right back. If you haven't returned by the time your parents get back, I have no idea where you've gone or what you're doing, understood?"

Everyone bobbed their heads in understanding. God love her daddy, he was going to let them do it.

"Mihnea, take your gun with you and keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary." Edmund went on, looking specifically at her cousin. "They're still under our protection. Anything that happens while you're out there is your responsibility. Use the tunnels so nothing can follow you out or in."

He nodded and pushed himself up from where he had been leaning against his mother's desk. His eyes lit up hopefully. "Can I take the mustang?"

"As long as you don't get caught." Edmund told him. He paused as if remembering something. "And stay away from the back of the garage. Pip has some guys working on something back there and they don't need anyone getting in their way."

Mihnea replied that he understood and with that, their plan was in place. Ginny and Constance would remain at the manor and to give Hermione some company and keep her distracted while all the boys went out on their mission.

* * *

><p>"Do you think they'll be alright with us leaving them like this?" Mrs. Weasley asked, wringing her hands.<p>

Her husband readjusted himself more comfortably in his seat and put an arm around her shoulders. "They'll be fine, Molly." he told her. "They know how to take care themselves."

"I know **that**." the woman replied. "I'm more worried about them snooping around and getting into something they shouldn't be sticking their noses in."

Syn pulled her gaze away from the view outside the car window to peer at the wizards sitting across from her. "All of your children were in my office with Edmund when I left, so you don't have to worry about them getting into trouble." she informed them. "He's good at keeping people entertained."

"**Your** office?" Molly demanded, surprised. "What on earth were they doing in there?"

The redhead frowned. "We were talking." she replied emotionlessly. "Otherwise known as 'hanging out' or 'getting to know each other'. And don't worry, I put away all of my torture devices and severed heads so their delicate sensibilities wouldn't be damaged."

The jab caused Mrs. Weasley's brows to furrow and her mouth to snap shut. Her expression was difficult to interpret. Not offended, but rather more guarded and questioning.

"That's not what I was thinking." she said carefully after a long moment. "I just... hope they weren't being bothersome."

The redhead arched a brow, not believing her statement for a minute. But why she suddenly decided to play nice, she had no idea. Still, even with her reservations, there was no point in getting into an unnecessary conflict.

"I don't find the natural curiosity of teenaged boys to be 'bothersome'." she replied, smoothing her hands out on her lap. "From what little I've seen, your children are well mannered and respectful, and they have been a pleasure to have around."

The woman blinked at her with a restrained sense of surprise. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With that, she turned back to looking out the window again. Her comment had been sincere. The Weasley children, along with Harry and Hermione, were interesting and inquizitive with delightful personalities. It was easy to see why they and Connie were all friends. The twins were right spitfires and could come up with the most amazing ideas she had ever heard before. They were a pair to watch, and she personally thought her niece had picked out a hell of a good boyfriend in George. It was striking that with everything going on, he had been willing to stand up to his own mother for her sake. Not many boys his age were willing to do that. It seemed to her that they must have gotten their good sense and reason from their father. For whatever reason - and Syn couldn't put a finger on exactly why - Molly Weasley put her on the defensive by just being around. Maybe it was her manner, the way she seemed to overlook how lucky she was to blessed with such intelliegent and creative children, or perhaps it was just the irritation of having to share the same breathing air with her. She didn't know. The night after their arrival when she had been sent away by Integra, Alucard had suggested that perhaps it was a matter of their personalities being similar. Strong willed personalities tended to either blend perfectly, or bristle and fight bitterly with one another. Syn had immediately shot the idea down in an angry flourish that filled the No Life King with a twisted sense of glee. The two of them were were **not** similar in any way shape or form. To even consider the thought was incredibly offensive and made her want to gag. Of course, Alucard had that annoying fetish for pushing her buttons, so that might have been the very reason why he said it.

Outside the window, the scenery shifted from the sight of trees to signs and buildings. They had entered the city limits, and it wouldn't be much longer before they reached their destination. Very little else was said during the ride. It was only when the car slowed and pulled into the parking lot of the building their meeting would be held in that Arthur cleared his throat.

"Is there anything in particular we should or shouldn't say?" he asked.

Syn considered the question carefully. "It's my understanding that Sir Integra was supposed to handle the most difficult subjects before our arrival." she replied. "You're free to answer any questions relating directly to yourselves, the children, or the attack on your house. Anything regarding events that you did not personally witness should be left to us." she studied the pair of them for a moment. "This is supposed to be strictly business. None of us like having to force you into the position of keeping secrets from your own government, but we have children of our own to worry about. Our families are to be completely left out of the conversation. No matter what you think of us, I hope that as parents you'll be able to understand that."

Molly gave her a long look that bordered on being offended. "Surely you don't believe I would do something like that?" she asked.

The gunsmith's eyes narrowed a hair. "I've lived too long and seen too much to take chances when it comes to my family." she told her firmly. She allowed herself to relax a bit and sighed. "We can modify memories if any slip ups happen but personally, I'd personally like to avoid doing that if I can."

Arthur frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "We understand." he glanced sideways at his wife. "I've seen how things like this can go, Molly. Fudge isn't above pushing limits to get people to say what he wants to hear. It might be best to only answer direct questions and leave the rest of it to them."

Mrs. Weasley appeared to listen to him and after a moment, inclined her head in agreement. Syn found herself wondering if perhaps the woman had a smidgen of good sense in her after all. She was willing to admit that her husband having intimate knowledge of how the Ministry worked meant he might know better than her. Interesting.

With the two of them informed about how things would go, they exited the car and Syn led the way into the building. They weren't quite sure how many people Fudge intended to bring with him, but since it was bound to be more than one, the Prime Minister had arranged for them to use a conference room that provided plenty of space. The redhead hadn't been told exactly which one though, so once they reached the appropriate floor they would have to be led to it. Pip had come with Integra to serve as her personal bodyguard - as well as to provide first hand information about the attack he had been in charge of handling - and he was waiting for them when their elevator opened on the third floor. He stepped back to the side, then fell into step with Syn as they walked out.

" 'ave I mentioned lately 'ow much I 'ate doing zhis?" he asked quietly as they walked. "I'm a zoldier, not a politician." he shot a glance back at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. "And no offenze, but none of zhis 'ocus pocus ztuff makez a lick of zence to me."

Syn understood the sentiment perfectly. The way wizards did things rarely made sense. "You're preaching to choir." she said with a sniff. "How many are there?"

"Four." the captain replied, looking back at her. He held up his fingers to begin listing them off. "Fudge, Shacklebolt, Scrimgeour, and Malfoy. Dumbledore iz een zhere too, but I don't zhink 'e counts."

That was reassuring at least. They all got along well with Albus Dumbledore and he would be in their corner. The presence of Malfoy wasn't going to be a pleasant thing to endure, but maybe the others would be able to keep him in check so she wouldn't have to whip his sorry ass.

As they approached the conference room, they all could hear a heated conversation going on within. Fudge didn't sound very happy about Hellsing's involvement.

"...comes **extremely** close to being a breech of contract, Sir Integra. We agreed to stay out of your business if you stayed out of ours. And while this may have turned out to work in our favor, I cannot **fathom** how the evacuation of a magical household falls within your usual job description." the man was saying.

"I would think you would be grateful, Minister, considering that the head of that magical household is one of your own employees." Integra replied in firm, yet icy tone. "It is common policy for Hellsing to evacuate survivors to a safe location. That they happened to be wizards was entirely coincidental. The reason for our intense security measures in this case is due to the fact that upon our arrival to the scene, we discovered that the attack on the Burrow, as well as the others that occured that night, were aimed at Mr. Potter. Even I am not ignorant of the significance of that name. Young Harry may not be a political figure himself, but he is certainly of great enough importance in your world that any action taken against him would become a political matter."

"The entire situation is **highly** suspicious." Malfoy's voice chimed in snidely. "You manipulate us into an agreement which gives you jurisdiction over any incidents involving vampires and within a few short months, an attack is made against a well known young wizard who happened to be staying in the home of a Ministry employee. It seems shockingly convenient for you, wouldn't you agree?"

_Oh, no he didn't._ Syn thought. She could almost see Integra's famous death glare boring into him.

"What I find 'shocking', Mr. Malfoy, is hearing a pure-blooded wizard such as yourself claim to have been manipulated by a mere muggle." the knight said. "And I would be very careful about making unfounded accusations if I were you."

"I don't believe Lucius intended to imply that you were responsible for these events, Sir Integra." Dumbledore's voice deftly commented. "It defies any sense of logic or reason. Despite any personal notions we may have, I believe we all can agree that you are an inherently reasonable and logical woman."

Scrimgeour's rough sounding voice entered into the conversation. "Minister, my personal and professional opinion is that our agreement with the Hellsing Organization was helpful in minimizing the amount of damage that could have taken place." he said. "I've read over these reports many times and there is simply no way that our aurors or law enforcement divisions could have responded so swiftly. We don't have the manpower or the expertise to deal with one attack of this size, much less three occuring simultaneously. We would have the deaths of eight wizards and hundreds of muggles on our hands if they hadn't been involved."

Apparently no one had the common sense to see it that simply because everything grew quiet. Syn noticed both Arthur and Molly wearing shocked expressions - like they hadn't considered the scale of the attacks either.

"We've been worried about something like this happening since Sirius Black escaped." Scrimgeour went on. "Have you found anything tying him to this?"

"All the information we've gathered is the incident reports I sent to you." Integra replied. "We've found no evidence suggesting that Black was a part of it. These vampires were following a chain of command. **If **Sirius Black had anything to do with these attacks, he wasn't the one handing out orders, and the vampires themselves had no awareness of his involvement."

A short span of silence followed and Syn and Pip exchanged a silent look of agreement that it was probably best to interrupt during the break. The captain lifted a hand to knock on the door. There was a rustle of movement, then the door opened to reveal Kingsely Shacklebolt in his colorful robes.

"Oh good, you've made it." he said. He reached out to take Mr. Weasley's hand in the concerned gesture of a friend. "I was sorry to hear about all this, Arthur." he said sincerely. He did the same for his wife. "And Molly. The children are alright?"

The woman nodded. "They're fine. It gave all of us a good scare, but we'll manage." she told him.

"I don't doubt it." Shacklebolt said. He took Syn's hand in greeting as well, then stepped aside so they could enter the conference room.

The large oval table that took up the majority of the room's space was littered with files and documents which had been laid out for viewing. Fudge and his representatives from the Ministry took up the chairs on the left side, while Sir Integra and the Prime Minister were sitting across from them. Dumbledore, in an almost psychological display of not choosing sides, had taken a seat halfway between the two groups. The gunsmith couldn't help but notice that when Kingsley returned to his seat, he had done the exact same thing himself. The others all looked up from their debate to take in the sight of them.

"Ah!" Fudge said, his expression shifting to a more benign, welcoming one - as if to mask his true feelings. Surely he knew they could hear him from outside? "Excellent! We were beginning to worry about you." he paused noticeably and followed Syn with his eyes as she and Pip went to take seats on either side of Integra. "And Miss Newsom. We... ah, weren't expecting **you** to be here."

Syn just stared at the man silently while Sir Integra arched a brow. "I thought it was made exceedingly clear during our last encounter that Miss Newsom is always involved when it comes to magical matters." she told him.

Fudge wrinkled his nose slightly at the memory, then cleared his throat and turned to the Weasleys, who were replying to something said quietly to them by Dumbledore. "Arthur and Molly." he said, drawing their attention. "Speaking on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I extend to you our sincere condolences at having endured these terrible events. We are currently investigating the matter and I assure you that we will do all within our power to ensure the safety of your family." he glanced at Integra. "Of course, we understand the desire to keep the children out of any intense discussions, but we have many questions - due to your being primary witnesses to one of these attacks, and out of our concern for the present situation you are in. I trust that the Hellsing Organization will not object to our inquiry?"

The knight extended her hands in a wide gesture. "If I didn't intend to cooperate with a joint investigation, I wouldn't have allowed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to come here today." she said.

Shacklebolt and Scrimgeour didn't appear terribly concerned by her wording, but it was obvious that Fudge and Malfoy didn't like the implication of her 'allowing' anything. Thus began the rather boring segment of the meeting - the Ministry officials questioning the Weasleys about things they had witnessed during the attack on the Burrow and how they were treated by the Hellsing Organization afterward. The two of them spoke both for themselves and for the children, though it was mostly Arthur that did the talking. It was a bit surprising to see that the man had a talent for engaging in political language. He never lied, but he was careful not to mention anything that suggested that Constance had been at their house. Once the details about the attack were dealt with, he described how Hellsing had explained the situation to them in detail at the first opportunity they were all together and provided the most respectful and gracious treatment they could have asked for. Hermione had recieved medical treatment immediately, and even though Ginny hadn't been treated for her injury, Molly Weasley shocked Syn senseless by jumping in to say that she had used healing spells on her daughter's leg herself and refused muggle medicine when it was offered. However, she firmly maintained that Hellsing extended the offer to them without being asked and she believed that if she had accepted, she would have been given the best possible care. None of them had ever been threatened at any time, and in every situation where something was done they didn't understand, it was explained so they would know it was for their safety and not for any nefarious reasons.

After listening to all the information they provided, Fudge and Scrimgeour exchanged a long, silent look between themselves. The head of Magical Law Enforcement coughed meaningfully and began looking through a stack of papers laying on the table in front of him.

"Arthur, I know you well enough to trust your judgement." he began seriously. "Sir Integra has made it clear that she wants you to remain in her custody until we're able to place protective enchantments on your house. Pulling enough people to build a team for something like that during this time of year is going to be difficult, so it may be a couple of weeks before we're able to do it. Keeping that time frame in mind, do you feel that you and your family are safe where you are?"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other, then Arthur turned back to Scrimgeour and inclined his head. "I do." he said.

When Fudge began to frown, Shacklebolt shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "If I may, Minister, I also agree that staying put is the safest option for them." he offered. "I've never been to Hellsing's headquarters myself, but from what I've heard said in this office, they have an excellent reputation when it comes to security."

The Prime Minister himself nodded in agreement and spoke for the first time since Syn and the Weasley's had joined the discussion. "Her Majesty has charged the Hellsing Organization with the protection of her people from the most dangerous of forces, and Sir Integra's people are the most highly skilled in the world." he told them. "You won't find anyone capable of doing better."

Dumbledore was nodding as well. "Vampires are deadly creatures and if the mastermind behind these events is attempting to use them to capture Mr. Potter, then it behooves us to accept assistance from those who are experts in fighting them."

Fudge paused to give the older wizard a long, considering look. "You've always been protective of Harry, Dumbledore." he commented. "You're comfortable with the idea of him staying in such a place?"

"I believe that Harry is just as safe at Hellsing as he would be within the walls of Hogwarts itself." the headmaster replied. He lowered his head to look at him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that he would be **safer **there, given these new 'security measures' the Ministry has imposed upon my school."

Albus obviously didn't approve of dementors being sent to Hogwarts, and with all the trouble she'd heard about them causing, Syn couldn't blame him. Oddly enough, Fudge balked slightly at the statement - like a child being chided for doing something wrong. It seemed that there was some type of pre-existing relationship between the two men that caused Fudge to respect the older wizard's judgement and see his opinions as having valuable weight. He let out a long sigh of concession.

"Very well." he announced. "The Ministry of Magic will agree to Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and the Weasley family remaining in Hellsing's custody for the time being." he jerked at the front of his robes like he was uncomfortable with the way the meeting was going and wanted it to be over. "Now, as I understand it, you wished to discuss the matter of Miss Hermione Granger's personal situation before closing?"

Sir Integra inclined her head in assent. "It has been my experience that in cases where a child is orphaned, it is to their benefit to work out the details of their long-term living situation as soon as possible." She gestured toward the Weasleys. "After much discussion, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley offered to become her legal guardians and Miss Granger seemed to favor the idea."

Not surprisingly, Malfoy wrinkled up his nose in a derisive sneer and shot a look toward the pair of wizards on their side of the table. "Arthur already has more children than he can afford." he said snidely. "Placing Miss Granger into an impoverished home would hardly be to her benefit. And considering that **Ginevra** Weasley was the one responsible for the attacks made against muggleborn students at Hogwarts last year, it may very well be dangerous for her to be with them."

Syn's mouth fell open in shock and it took a great force of will to keep from saying something. What kind of heartless, pretentious bastard **said** that kind of thing? Openly insulting someone for having little money, and then accusing their daughter of something that wasn't her fault? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both gave noticeable starts and Arthur actually got so upset that he planted his hands firmly on the table and slowly rose to a stand.

"You leave my daughter out of this." he said coldly. "She was **possessed **and nearly died because of it!"

"Are you making excuses for her behavior now, Arthur?" Malfoy asked. "Yet another reason why Miss Granger shouldn't be allowed to live under your influence for long. Not a **one** of your miserable offspring has enough sense to keep themselves out of dangerous situations. One can only assume that such a disturbing lack of insight being present in so many members of one family must stem from the parents themselves."

"Why you **dirty**...!"

Mr. Weasley was so infuriated, it looked like he was intent on tearing Malfoy's face off and handing it back to him. He got nearly halfway across the table before he was impeeded by his wife and Shacklebolt quickly grabbing his arms to pull him back. As all of the wizards were attempting to get both men to calm down, another insult was hurled - causing wands to be drawn. The threat of magic caused the people on Hellsing's side to rise and jump back. Pip immediately planted himself in front of the Prime Minister to sheild him from any stray spells that might be fired, while Syn did the same for Integra.

"For God's sake..." the lady knight muttered, then thrust a finger out toward the wizards. "Break it up, Syn!"

In response to the order, the redhead called up a set of shadows and directed them across the table. They deftly snatched away every wand that had been drawn. It happened so fast that it took a moment for the wizards to grasp that they were no longer armed. They blinked at their now empty hands, then at her with a mixture of confusion and horror. Lucius' fury at Arthur now redirected itself toward her.

"How **dare** you!" he exclaimed, eyes blazing. He moved like he was going to jump forward and attack physically. "Filthy, unnatural bi..."

Syn didn't wait for the rest of his words to come out. At the first step he took toward her she leveled a hard glare at him and the dark shadows moved to twine around his ankles - jerking him up to hang upside down in the air. Another set manifested and wrapped around the lower half of his face to keep his deplorable mouth shut. The man wrestled in vain to free himself from the dark tendrils holding him captive while the woman crooked a finger toward the others to bring the wands over so she could gather them up.

With the threat of being hit by stray magic removed, Sir Integra stepped out from behind Syn with a look of icy intent on her face. Platinium hair swirled around her face as she strode forward and slammed her hands down on the table to glare at Fudge in warning.

"I've had **enough**!" she shouted in a voice that would make the bravest and most battle hardened of men quake in their boots. One of her hands came up to shove a finger into the man's face. "I want you to listen to me and listen well because I am only going to say this once. The childish bickering stops **now**. I have far more important things to do than sit here wasting **my** time watching **your** people try to kill each other. If it's impossible for the men you've brought with you to act like adults instead of unruly children in need of a babysitter, then I suggest you ask them to leave. I have no desire to fight with you but if you don't tighten the reigns and keep Malfoy under control, you're damn well going to get one." Her good eye narrowed. "And seeing as how Dumbledore, Scrimgeour, and Mrs. Weasley are the only ones who haven't been deprived of their wands, I don't think you want to see how **horrific** it would be for you if you choose to force my hand."

Everything went dead quiet and they all stared at each other. Sir Integra wasn't playing nice anymore, and Fudge could see that she was serious. Without his wand, there was very little he could do about it either. The man took a cautious step back and glanced at the Prime Minister.

"You're going to **allow** her to act this way?" he asked.

Syn found it almost laughable that he was going to turn to someone he had stabbed in the back for assistance. The man arched an unimpressed brow at the question.

"I have no authority over Sir Integra or her organization." he reminded him. It looked like he found an immense amount of satisfication in being able to say so. "She is a knight of the Round Table Conference and was personally appointed by Her Majesty the Queen. For a lesser ranking government official to knowingly interfere with her actions is the equivilent of committing high treason." he gave Fudge a long, pointed look and squared his shoulders. "I've had enough experience with the way the you treat people who aren't wizards to be put off doing anything for you that could earn me a life sentence in prison."

Apparently, the wizards didn't know how serious treason was because they all looked flabberghasted at his words. Fudge had screwed himself over in a very unpleasant way and he was now beginning to realize just how much. He simpered down and fidgeted anxously.

"I'll have Lucius leave." he said in concession. "Please release him."

Integra inclined her head and waved a finger at Syn without looking back over her shoulder. "Drop him."

Syn had always appreciated how specific the knight was with her orders. She sent a silent command to her shadows and they unwound themselves from around the man dangling in the air. He hit the floor with a solid thump. Malfoy was incredibly unhappy with the way he was so roughly handled and when he pushed himself up and jerked at his robes to readjust them, he had no qualms with pointing it out.

"**Minister**." he said with a deep hiss. "This is rediculous! You're going to stand there and let a **muggle**...?"

Fudge's brows knit together in irritation and he pulled the man over to speak quietly, but heatedly to him. In essence, telling him that the situation was precarious enough without him making it worse. Malfoy was pissed beyond belief when their mini-conversation came to a close and jerked at the front of his robes again. He looked like a man trying to regain some dignity after a horrible blow to his ego. He shot a derisive glare toward them and thrust out his hand.

"My wand." he demanded with a snarl.

Syn quirked a brow at him and selected the black wand with the silver snake's head handle she had taken from him. "I didn't hear a 'please'." she prodded. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

Malfoy's face twisted up with indignant fury. "How **dare** you? Insufferable..."

"**Lucius**." Fudge interuppted firmly. "Just do it and be done."

The blonde man glared at him, nostrils flaring, then took a deep breath and shoved a hand back over his hair and looked back at her.

"**Please**." he spat hatefully. He thrust his hand out again. "My wand."

Syn stared at him for a long moment, then decided she had screwed around with him enough for one day. She held out of the shaft of wood. When his fingers wrapped around the handle, she gave a small tug to get his attention.

"No funny business, Malfoy." she warned. "You cast one **tiny** little spell before you go slinking back to whatever hole you crawled out of and I will amplify it a hundred fold and turn it back to hit you in the face."

He didn't respond, but only sneered in contempt as he jerked the wand out of her grip and moved to march toward the door. He was about halfway there when Scrimgeour suddenly cleared his throat.

"I believe I'll see Lucius out, Minister." he announced. "Since we're finished with everything applying to my department, there's no reason for me to stay." he studied Fudge for a moment. "Unless you need me for something else?"

The Minister shook his head and waved him off. "No, no, Rufus, no need in keeping you here." he agreed sullenly.

The members of Hellsing all exchanged a small look amongst themselves. While it wasn't overtly done, it certainly **seemed** that Scrimgeour was only offering to leave with Malfoy to make to sure he didn't do anything stupid on his way out. The blonde haired wizard appeared to view it the same way, but was stopped from making too much of a fuss out of the knowledge that Scrimgeour was in charge of magical law enforcement. He probably wasn't a person you wanted to be on the bad side of. Everyone watched as the two men left the room. When the door was shut again, Fudge let out a deep sigh and returned to his seat.

"Sir Integra, I'll admit that things got a bit out of hand there, but I would appreciate it if you returned everyone's wands to them." he said softly, but seriously. "For my own peace of mind, if nothing else."

The lady knight leveled a hard look at him. "And just how is your being deprived of a wand any different from your insistence on Miss Newsom wearing that restrictive collar during our last meeting?" she challenged.

Fudge met her gaze with one of his own. "I would say there's a great deal of difference." he said. "Miss Newsom's powers obviously weren't affected by our precautions."

"Which you weren't aware of at the time." Integra pointed out. "I suggest, in the future, that you refrain from forcing people who are not enemies into a position you are unwilling to be in yourself. When you so readily draw your wands on each other in my presence, how am I supposed to be assured you wont do the same to me?"

It looked like the Minister desperately wanted to argue with her, but couldn't come up with a good enough rebuttal. _Good._ Syn thought. Maybe now he understood how it felt. The man sighed heavily and brought up his hands to rub at his temples.

"What do you want, Sir Integra?" he asked.

"I've made it clear what I want." she replied. "Miss Granger requires a permanent home. The Weasleys have offered theirs and the girl herself agreed to it. The matter will be settled and the appropriate documentation filed **today**. As I understand it, the children will be returning to school in a few short weeks so there's no point in drawing it out."

"Sir Integra, perhaps you aren't aware of how we do things, but there are **laws** about the adoption of orphans." Fudge said firmly. He looked at Arthur. "I don't have any issues with you taking the girl in, but there is paperwork that has to be filled out, and people bringing forth a claim must be able to show adequate means of support..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Actually, Minister, the paperwork is easily taken care of." he announced. "During my last visit to the Ministry, I happened to pick up a full set of such documents quite by accident. Since I knew this would come up in our discussion today, I thought it was only appropriate to bring them along."

The Minister blinked at him in surprise. "You have them with you?"

"Of course." the headmaster replied. He reached into the folds of his robes to retrieve a scroll of parchment. "During my reading, I noticed that the signatures of two character witnesses are required. I'd be more than happy to supply one of them." he glanced at Shacklebolt sideways. "Would you do the honor of acting as the other, Kingsely?"

"Absolutely!" the man proclaimed. "No trouble at all!"

"Well..." Fudge said haltingly. He coughed and shook his head. "Even so, there must still be adequate proof of means of support. Not to say you aren't able, Arthur, but we must keep everything legal..."

Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley moved to ask him about what was needed, but Sir Integra raised a hand. "In this case, I don't believe that's necessary, Minister." she announced. "After looking at Miss Granger's records, it appears that her parents left a fair sized inheritance for her which would be more than enough to support her."

That caused both Fudge and both Weasleys to stare at her. "Inheritance?" Molly asked. "Hermione's never mentioned anything about having an inheritance."

Fudge glanced at the woman for only a moment before turning back and clearing his throat. "Be that as it may, since Miss Granger's parents were muggles, the matter of her inheritance falls outside the Ministry of Magic's jurisdiction." he stated formally. "We aren't intimately acquainted with muggle laws pertaining to something like this, nor do we have the ability to gather that information for our records in such a short period of time."

"Again, I see no reason why that should keep the matter from moving forward." Sir Integra replied. She sat back in her seat and gestured to the man sitting on the other side of Pip. "It is our great fortune to have a Prime Minister who was an exceptional lawyer and practiced family law for many years before his election into office."

The Prime Minister inclined his head in acknowledgement and reached into the front pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve a pair of reading glasses. Placing them on his face, he picked up a stack of papers he had laying on the table before him.

"Sir Integra brought Miss Granger's situation to my attention immediately and requested that I look into her affairs to make sure everything was in order." he reported. "After reviewing her file, we found no formal Will and Testament - which isn't terribly surprising given her parents' age and good health. Since the girl has no siblings and there is no Will providing instructions on how they wished their assets to be divided, everything they owned now belongs to her. This includes the residential property in Brighton and the joint bank accounts held by her parents." he began sifting through the papers in search of something specific. "There was also a trust fund set up not long after Miss Granger's birth, into which a set amount of money from each paycheck her parents recived was placed and allowed to draw interest. Under normal circumstances, the account would be opened upon her coming of age and the money used to pay for University costs or general living expenses. However, there is a clause which states that a trust may be opened early if there is sufficient cause for it. The sudden death of both parents is **more** than adequate to have it activated."

The Prime Minister found the document he was looking for and passed it across the table to Fudge. It was lengthy and detailed, so there was no way he could read through all of it right there, but he did flip through to browse the various sections.

"This... 'trust' is enough to provide for Miss Granger until she comes of age?" he questioned as he read.

The Prime Minister lifted his shoulders in a thoughtful shrug. "I don't know how **wizarding** banks function, but I can say with relative certainty that if the money from this trust is kept in one of our banks with it's current interest rate, it will be enough to allow Miss Granger to live comfortably up until she turns eighteen. If wisely managed, it may even last to provide an accessory source of income into her twenties."

The girl was extraordinarily lucky to have had parents who were thoughtful enough to begin saving early. Not many people thought about it until their children were older. An exact amount was never thrown out, but Fudge seemed content with what he was reading. He hummed thoughtfully and passed the documents to Shacklebolt for his appraisal.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

Kingsley studied the papers himself, then looked up. "Everything looks above board, sir." he replied. "It certainly fills the requirements..." he paused and turned toward the Prime Minister. "If the Weasleys become Miss Granger's guardians, would they have access to this account?"

The man rubbed his chin. "She would have to sign a document giving permission for them to use the funds." he said. He looked pointedly at Fudge as if to emphasize the seriousness of what he was going to say. "I'm aware you're probably going to say this isn't a 'muggle matter', but I don't particularly care that Miss Granger herself is witch. She may be a member of your world now, but her parents were **our** people, and she grew up in and has been a part of our society for much longer than she's been in yours. In my eyes, she deserves the protection of our laws as much as anyone else. Before Miss Granger signs **anything**, she needs to be given proper legal counsel to ensure she is making the best decision. Not someone who is looking out for the interests of muggles or wizards, but someone who is focused on what is best for **her**. If you can't agree to that, then as Prime Minister, I will bar any access to Miss Granger's muggle assets and accounts regardless of where she's placed."

Fudge looked shocked. "You threaten to do that after claiming to want what's best for her over what's best for muggles?" he challenged.

"It has nothing to do with 'what's best for muggles'." the man replied with a hard look. "I have three children of my own - two of which are very close in age to this girl. If any of them were a witch or wizard and had the misfortune of being in this situation, I would **hope** someone would do the very same thing to prevent them from being used or manipulated. A child, no matter how bright and intellegent, is still a child - and there is no reason in this world good enough to risk having what rightfully belongs to them stolen out from under their nose because they didn't know any better. Miss Granger recieves legal counsel or her accounts remain closed. End of discussion."

Apparently, the Minister for Magic didn't interact with the Prime Minister often enough to know that the man could be incredibly resilient and forceful when he chose. With that came the matter of just who would provide this 'legal counsel'. None of them particularly trusted anyone the Minister might appoint to do the job, and Fudge himself didn't like getting a muggle lawyer involved for the very same reason. In the end, Dumbledore offered himself as a candidate. He was a high ranking member of the Wizengamot - which sounded like the magical equivalent of a high court mixed with Parliament or something - and was the Headmaster of Hermione's school. He was rather well known for taking a personal interest in his students, he said, and could be trusted to look out for her interests above everyone else's. Fudge and Shacklebolt both agreed that would be acceptable, and the Prime Minister - following Hellsing's lead in trusting the older wizard - took no issue with the appointment. When all was said and done, all of the appropriate documents were given to Dumbledore and he made clear that he would speak personally to Hermione, have everything signed, then bring them back to the Ministry that very day to have them filed. Once all relavent subjects were taken care of, Integra ordered Syn to return the wands she had taken from Fudge and Shacklebolt so they could leave. The Prime Minister also left to go back to his office, leaving them to gather up the things they had brought in preparation for departing back to the manor. Syn handed Mr. Weasley's wand back to him with a sincere apology for having been forced to take it. If it had been her in his shoes, she would have done much worse than threaten the bastard with a spell. But the simple fact of the matter was that it would have looked suspicious for her to take the other wands away while leaving his alone.

"I have to admit, Sir Integra, I have always admired your talent for swiftly diffusing an argument." Dumbledore said in a conversational tone.

The lady knight arched a brow at him. "I can't say I've ever been accused of having such a talent, but the sentiment is appreciated." she told him, inclining her head. She paused for a moment to study him. "For a man who claims to want no power for himself, you appear to hold a great deal of it."

The man only smiled knowingly in response. "I believe the same thing could be said about you, sir."

It wasn't said harshly or threateningly. It sounded more like a friendly tease between two people who understood each other's situation. Since it was the first time they had ever seen them interact with the Headmaster, both Arthur and Molly were watching the exchange with a vieled sense of interest. After witnessing the man go through similar pleasantries with Syn and Pip, Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way," she began carefully, adressing Integra. "But... why are you doing all of this? I understand wanting to keep all of us safe with this being so focused on capturing Harry, but you've gone to all this extra trouble on our account without having a reason to."

The knight looked at her for a long moment, as if pouring over the best way to respond. "Regardless of what you choose to believe, I'm not heartless, Mrs. Weasley. All of the major members of my household - myself included - have been orphaned and have lived through the experience of losing everything and everyone we love most. I won't insult anyone's intelligence by claiming to understand how they feel, but I vividly recall what it was like for me. My daughter considers your children, as well as Harry and Hermione, to be her closest friends. Hermione was the first friend Constance made at school, and they were close before any of the rest came along. True friendship is a rare and precious thing that deserves to be protected. If circumstances were different, I would have offered to take her in myself. As it is, the best I can do is make sure she's placed somewhere she'll be loved and cared for. I believe you'll be able to do that."

Molly appeared taken aback by the statement and thanked her for saying so. Dumbledore shot a small, knowing look in her direction, then cleared his throat.

"Miss Newsom notified me the moment you arrived at the manor and she's been sending me regular updates." he told them. "I've been meaning to come check up on everyone, but I've been kept busy until now. Oh!" he began rummaging through his robes like was was looking for something. "Before I forget, I have everyone's grades. No point in sending them by owl when I could bring them myself."

He passed a series of envelopes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley before handing Integra and Syn the ones that applied to their children. Mihnea had always been a good student, so she was pleased to see a long list of O's. Herbology and History of Magic didn't fall into his areas of interest, so they were the only two E's present. There was also a note reminding her about the OWL's scheduled at the end of the year, after which he would have to meet with Professor Snape to discuss which classes he would continue in his final two years. God, it didn't seem like he should be doing that already...

"A T?" Molly exclaimed. "Do you **see** this, Arthur? One T each! How did that **happen**?"

Syn looked up from the parchment expecting to see the woman looking upset, but was flabberghasted to find she wasn't. Molly Weasley appeared to be elated by the news. Arthur himself was reading over the grades in surprise.

"**Two** D's?" he asked. He pulled one paper out of his wife's hand to glance at the one beneath it. "And George only has one... wait. Is that **Potions**?" he looked back and forth between the two slips of parchment to make sure he was correct. "They have E's in Potions!"

"Is this an unusual occurance, or am I missing something?" Integra asked, confused by the way they were acting.

"It's Fred and George." Mrs. Weasley replied, looking up from the papers at last. "They... well, they're good boys, but they aren't very serious about school and rarely make good grades. It's a wonder they pass anything at all. And **Potions**! They've always gotten through Potions by the skin of their teeth!"

Dumbledore coughed pointedly. "If I may, I believe Miss Stryker may have had a hand in that."

"Do what?" Arthur asked.

"Well, I'm not privy to everything they do in the dormitories, of course, but it's my understanding that Miss Stryker has been goading them into studying more often." he told them. "As a matter of fact, there was a particular incident not long after start of term. Understand, the teacher's table is at the very front of the room, so I couldn't make out everything that was said, but from what little I heard, it seemed the twins were discussing how they didn't have to worry about passing anything because they wouldn't 'need' it with what they'd be doing later on. Miss Stryker grew visibly upset by it and threatened to..." he pressed a finger to his lips. "How did she put it? Oh yes. 'Thrash Fred to within an inch of his life, kill George, break up with him, then beat the devil out of him as well' - in that exact order - if they failed anything on purpose. Both myself and Professor McGonagall were of the opinion that she was quite serious. Since then, the pair appears to be taking more care in completing their lessons." he glanced at Integra. "And while Miss Stryker usually appears to take more after her father, I must admit that she looks and **sounds** a great deal like you when she's angry."

The entire story was delivered in such a deadpan, matter of fact tone that Syn was forced to put a hand to her mouth to hide the amused grin spreading across her face. Unfortunately, Pip, who had been listening, let out a loud snort and began laughing so hard he doubled over.

"Zhat poor kid didn't know what 'e waz getting into wizh 'er!" he said between guffaws. "At leazt she got eet 'onest!"

Integra calmly folded the piece of parchment in her hands and placed it back into the envelope. "Do you want me to shoot you, Captain?" she asked without looking at him.

"Non!" he replied. "Not zhat eet **doez** anyzhing, but a zilver bullet between zhe eyez hurtz like 'ell no matter 'ow you look at eet."

The knight sniffed. "That's what I thought."

Molly and Arthur exchanged look between themselves, then Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. "Well, serious or not, I suppose I should thank Connie for finding a way to get through to them." she said. "It's something I've never been able to do."

Syn halted in fighting back the urge to laugh to quirk a brow at the woman. Did she really just say something _nice_? Hell must have frozen over. She halfway wondered if they should book it back to the manor to make sure no other earth shattering events were happening.

As the thought poured through her mind, Dumbledore mentioned something about having to get back to Hogwarts before it got too late, reminding them of his purpose in being there. They were collectively walking out of the conference room to head down to the car when Mrs. Weasley stopped them again. She spoke very briefly to her husband about something - which he nodded in response to - then stepped forward.

"Sir Integra, I was wondering if it would be possible for one of us to make a quick trip back to our house?" she asked.

The knight halted midstep and turned to study her. "Whatever for, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Well... we had to leave rather suddenly, and there are a few things we had to leave behind." Molly replied. "It's Christmas tomorrow and I thought, with Professor Dumbledore being there, the children would be occupied for a while..."

Integra's good eye lit up with understanding and she held up a hand. "No need to explain." she told her. "Of course, that wont be a problem. So long as a guard goes with you. Or..." she paused thoughtfully for a moment. "How many things do you plan on getting?"

"Oh, it's not that much." Mrs. Weasley assured her. "Two could carry it all with no trouble."

The knight hummed. "All the same, a guard with their arms full wont be a very effective one." she said. She made a small hand gesture to Syn and Pip. "Both of you go along."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "**Both** of them, Sir?"

Integra turned to arch a brow at him in an almost joking manner. "I assure you, Mr. Weasley, you are quite safe with me." she said. "Unlike some others I could speak of, I'm not prone to biting. We're close enough to my house that someone could reach us in an instant if anything should happen." she made a shooing motion at Syn and the Captain again. "Go. And **behave**."

She just had to go and take the wind out of her sails, didn't she? Syn wasn't particularly planning on doing anything awful, but having Integra expressly forbid it was no fun at all. She watched the three of them leave then turned back to Molly with a deep sigh.

"I suppose if this is going to be a quick trip, we aren't going to use a car?" she asked.

The woman looked at her in befuddlement. "Oh no, driving would take far too long." she said. "I was thinking of apparating."

Pip blinked. "Appa -what?"

Syn wrinkled up her nose in distaste. "It's a kind of magical transportation." she explained. "They think of a place they want to go and... 'pop' there." she looked back at Mrs. Weasley. "And I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

Molly looked even more confused. "Why?" she asked. It looked like she was going to say something else, but stopped herself. Her expression slowly shifting to one of awareness. "You... you **can't** apparate, can you?"

The redhead twisted up her face and shook her head. This was bringing up very unpleasant memories. "It's not that I **can't** do it." she insisted. "I just... get extreme motion sickness. I tried it once when I was younger and it took about three days for me to stop throwing up."

"Motion zickness?" the Captain questioned incredulously. "What zhe bloody 'ell? You ride a motorcycle zhat goes nearly four 'undred milez an 'our and can jump to wherever zhe 'ell Alucard 'appenz to be when you want! None of zhose zhings make you zick."

"Excuse me for being a **little** sensitive to magical travel!" Syn exclaimed. "Apparating isn't the least bit pleasant. It's like being sucked through a tiny rubber tube, internal organs first." she crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed. " 'Jumping' is an innate vampiric ability for mated pairs - not magic. They're two completely different things. And it **did** make me sick at first, thank you. I just learned how to get over it because it's not nearly as traumatic."

He held up his hands defensively. "Oookay. Whatever you zay, momma hen."

For her part, Mrs. Weasley responded to their little interchange by looking back and forth between the two of them. "Floo, then?" she suggested. "The Ministry should have a connection set up here."

Syn didn't particularly like the idea of travelling by Floo powder either, but it was a much more attractive option than apparation. She slumped in defeat. "Fine, we'll Floo." she said, then thrust a finger toward Pip. "If I throw up, you had better not say a damn thing."

Of course, given that Pip had never done it before, he might wind up in the same boat as her. She just didn't know how flooing affected vampires, so it was best to be prepared.

* * *

><p>The boys made it back from their excursion with no trouble whatsoever. It turned out to be just in the nick of time because not fifteen minutes after they returned, Connie's mother and Mr. Weasley showed up with Dumbledore to speak to Hermione about her living with the Weasleys. Once that bit of formality was out of the way, the Headmaster took the time to speak with all of them. It was nice to know that he cared enough to check on them personally. Constance was a bit perplexed as to why Mrs. Weasley hadn't come back with them, but her mom said something about her needing to 'take care of some personal business'. Whatever it was didn't take very long because she, aunt Syn, and Pip got back to the manor a few minutes before Dumbledore had to take his leave. His excuse was that he didn't dare stay away from Hogwarts too long for fear that too many of his teachers would lose their hair - though Syn managed to talk him into taking a platter of her snickerdoodles back with him. The man had a very large sweet tooth and found himself unable to resist.<p>

With that came the waiting. The Weasley children postulated that their mother must have snuck away to their house to get their Christmas presents. This was fueled by the woman's steadfast refusal to talk about what she had been up to. Strangely enough, when they asked Syn about it, she remained tight lipped as well. Hermione, to her credit, put on the airs of a good friend and joined in the usual pondering over what they might get. Though, through everything, she was quieter than usual and it was plain as day that she was feeling left out. No one dared to talk about the funeral - knowing how upset she had been - but when she commented that perhaps she should stay out of the next night's festivites, Connie immediately shushed her and told her not to be silly. They had gone to too much trouble for her to make it more difficult.

Of course, when they all had to separate for the evening and go to their own rooms, Fred happened to think of something they hadn't considered at first. How were they supposed to **give** Hermione her gift? If they came out and did it while the adults were around, their parents would throw a fit about them leaving the house without an army to keep them safe. Connie herself was pretty sure that her mother wouldn't have **that** extreme of a reaction, but she would still be upset. Huddling in a small group in the hallway and speaking in soft whispers, they quickly came up with a plan to sneak everything into the girl's room the next day while their parents were occupied with something or other. No one was really sure when this would happen, but it was the best option they had for success.

So the next morning, Constance made a point to wake up earlier than usual to make sure she was awake and ready to move when their 'window' presented itself. Hermione had gone into a state of semi-isolation. She was awake, but while she wasn't forceful about asking them to leave her alone, her mannerisms made it clear that would be her preference. She, Ron, and Harry had to do some convincing for her to let them join her in her room to 'hang out' while Fred, George, and Ginny kept a watchful eye on their parents. To keep the girl from growing suspicious of their actions, they chose to watch a muggle film on the large flatscreen television hidden behind the doors of the entertainment center across from the bed. Ron had never seen a movie before, so he wound up badgering them with all sorts of questions about how muggles managed to put sounds and moving pictures on a 'see dee'. (And who's this 'Dee' person and what's seeing him have to do with that flat round thing?) After listening to their attempts at explanation, he then sat through the rest of _The Phantom of the Opera_ bemoaning how the story didn't make any sense because anyone with half a brain should have been able to tell that the Phantom wasn't really an 'opera ghost' when they saw for themselves he wasn't see-through. Though he probably couldn't help it, the boy's numerous interruptions were downright annoying. The only thing that succeeded in shutting him up was one of Hermione's pointed glares about halfway through the movie.

It was when the credits began rolling and they set about searching for a good title to follow up with that the door cracked open and Fred stuck his head in.

"Hey." he said. "Just making sure you guys were still in here." he held up a finger. "Don't go anywhere."

Hermione's brows knitted together in confusion, but before she could ask why, he pulled his head back through the opening and disappeared. She stared at the door for a moment, then looked back at them.

"Don't go anywhere?" she asked. "What on earth for?"

The boys and Constance looked at each other meaningfully. "I don't know." they all said at the same time.

Hermione studied them all in suspicion. "What's going on?" she demanded. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you up to something?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Maybe."

As she was preparing herself to chastize them for doing something stupid, the door opened again and Fred slipped back inside. He pushed it closed behind him then turned to face them.

"Okie dokie, dad's gone off to do something and Ginny went with mom to help her in the kitchen." he announced. "Don't know how long we've got, but it looks like this is the best chance we're going to get."

Hermione still looked hopelessly confused and upset about not knowing what they were doing. She opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but Harry beat her to it.

"We have a surprise for you." he said.

The girl went still and blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

Constance did her best to hold back her expectation and came up behind her to cover her eyes with her hands. "No peeking." she instructed.

"Oh for God's sake!" Hermione exclaimed. "Will you stop being stupid and just tell me what's going on?"

"Wait and see." Connie told her. "Just play along, would you?"

Once Hermione couldn't see anything, Fred opened the door and Harry and Ron went over to help George bring in the stuff they had gotten. They got everything laid out on the table situated on the far side of the room and Connie carefully manuevered Hermione's head so she was facing in the right direction. In a quick, smooth motion, she pulled her hands away from the girl's face.

"Surprise!" Everyone called out at once.

Hermione looked around at all of them in bewilderment, then focused her attention on the table. A collection of packages wrapped in brightly colored paper had been piled on top of it. She was so struck by the sight that her mouth opened and closed a couple of times soundlessly.

"We know you've been having a hard time." Harry began, not waiting for her to say anything. He glanced around at the others. "All of us have, but you've sort of had it the worst. So we thought we'd do something special."

"Yep." George said with a big grin. He held up a finger when he saw her open her mouth in protest. "And don't try to make out like we shouldn't have done anything, either. You're practically our sister as of yesterday, so we **had** to do something."

Hermione stared at them in shock as they began relating the story to her. Every present on the table had come from her house. They were the Christmas presents her parents had bought for her and hidden away. It was meant to be a gesture to show that even after everything that had happened, they were still with her in a way. The initial idea had been Harry's, and when they got to her house, Ron was the one who determined where they had been hidden. When they finished explaining, the girl had tears in her eyes.

"Guys..." she breathed, looking like she thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "You really... did all this for me? But... how? I thought none of us were supposed to leave..."

Fred snorted. "Since when do we ever pay attention to silly things like **rules**?" he challenged. He pointed at Connie. "Her dad was there when we talked about it and he said as long as we careful and got back before mom and dad, he wouldn't stop us."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. And Bassarab was the only one who knew how to get to your house, so he drove us there. We all figured if he could handle a bunch of vampires and get you out by himself, then we'd be fine if anything happened."

"**Bassarab**?" Hermione repeated, stunned. "Mihnea Bassarab took you to my house? But..." she turned to look at Constance questioningly. "Why?"

She shrugged in response. "He said he wanted to help." she replied. "And it's not like any of them would have been able to get there on their own anyway."

"Yeah, and it's a good thing he was with us too." George offered, drawing their attention back to him. "There were a couple of 'please men' hanging out around your house to make sure no one broke in to steal anything. When they stopped us, Mihnea did some kind of..." he wiggled his fingers. "Freaky vampire mind thing to make them leave us alone and when we left, they forgot we'd ever been there. Someone would have been able to track us down if we had to use a spell for it."

The girl was still absorbing everything and didn't say much else for a while. Fred coughed and said that Ginny really wanted to be there with them, but she had stayed with their mom to make sure she was occupied and didn't interrupt them. Ron then stepped forward and tugged her over to the table so she could open everything. They were the ordinary gifts one would expect to see given by a muggle family. A couple of books, new clothes along with a nice pair of shoes, and a large mug filled with sugar free candy. One small box gave Hermione serious pause and her eyes began watering again. It was an iPod and a card to provide for buying a few pieces of music for it. Constance wasn't really sure why that present would be so moving, then she remembered that the girl had mentioned wanting one, but her parents wouldn't buy it because she wouldn't be able to use it at school. It appeared they had only said it to throw her off the scent.

"Thank you." she murmured, reaching up to rub her nose on the back of her hand. "Really... this is the **best** thing anyone's ever done for me. It means a lot."

She held out her arms to pull them all into a large group hug in her thankfulness. Words couldn't begin to describe how amazing it was to know how much she appreciated the gesture.

"So..." Connie prodded when they pulled back. "Does this mean you'll stop being silly and join us for Christmas downstairs?"

"Please?" Ron added.

Hermione looked at them and let out a small laugh of concession. "Alright." she said. "I'll come."

* * *

><p>The Weasleys normally saved the opening of presents for Christmas day, but the Hellsing family always held their celebrations the night before. It was mostly because that was the tradition begun by Constance's grandfather, but the adults also maintained that the kids wouldn't sleep that night anyway, so there was no point in making them wait. They also said there was no need to segregate everyone, so their guests were invited to join in. When the children came downstairs, Connie led them to the large sitting room where her family normally congregated for the evening. Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Integra were already there, while the others slowly made their way in. To everyone's surprise, Ginny informed them that Syn and Mrs. Weasley had been baking treats in the kitchen together. You couldn't exactly say they were being friendly with each other (the younger girl claimed that both of them took to correcting the other when they did anything contrary to how they normally worked and forcefully maintained that their way was 'correct') but they hadn't been hurling insults, and neither of them had tried to kill the other yet. They were still going at it when they brought in plates of freshly made tarts and cookies - engaging in a heated debate over whether or not it was 'appropriate' to flour the pan before baking or not. It was kind of funny to watch, but Constance figured that if the two women were going to fight, it was better they argued over something mundane like that than something serious. Seras and Pip then showed up and took up cross-legged positions on the floor like the younger people did instead of sitting on the furniture like the adults. Connie's dad popped in next, followed by Mihnea who appeared to be following the scent of goodies. Alucard came in last, choosing to walk through the wall behind the loveseat Syn was perched upon. Everyone gave a noticeable start at his appearance.<p>

"Bloody hell..." Ron whispered, leaning over toward Constance. "He comes too?"

"He's part of the family." the girl reminded him. "You don't expect us to leave him out, do you?"

Ginny watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye, like she didn't want to get caught staring directly at him. "He looks different." she whispered.

Rather than the short style and goatee he had worn the last time they saw him, Alucard had gone back to the long, waist length hair and clean shaven face he normally had. The black overcoat was replaced by his usual red one. The only thing that remained the same from her friend's first sight of him was the red sunglasses. Constance didn't think much of it because Alucard changed the way he looked whenever a wild hair struck him, but to the others it was incredibly weird.

"He does that." she responded quietly.

Integra waited until the master vampire took a seat next to Syn and comfortably pulled both her legs over his lap to begin handing out presents from under the tree. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did the same with the gifts they had brought, and everyone opened them as they recieved them. The boys all got their usual handknitted sweaters along with hats and gloves, and Ginny got a new coat. Hermione had a present to open from them as well, to which she was delightfully surprised. Once those were out of the way, Mrs. Weasley pulled out two other boxes and moved to pass them to Fred and George. There was a moment of hesitation where she switched them back and forth, trying to determine which should go to which, but the twins finally got irritated and grabbed them.

"**Mother**!" they exclaimed in unison. "We'll just switch them anyway, so it doesn't matter who gets what!"

The woman frowned, then shook her head. "Oh, fine." she said, relenting and letting go of the boxes. "You'll sort it out yourselves, I expect."

With their new gifts in hand, Fred and George commenced ripping the paper off the boxes, When they got their first view at what they had gotten, they both went very still and looked at each other.

"Whoa..." they said together, their faces lighting up. "**Awesome**!"

Constance couldn't see what the fuss was about until they pulled the contents out of the boxes to hold them up. They had both recieved a full set of Quiddich pads and a beater's bat in Gryffindor colors. The protective gear itself appeared to have been lightly used, but it was practically brand new compared to the worn looking padding they normally played with. When they saw everything was marked with their initials and number, they immediately switched them so they had the right ones. They both looked thrilled at the gift, but George sobered as he thought of something.

"Wait, how much did you spend on this?" he asked, his voice containing a note of concern. "Quiddich supplies don't come cheap."

His mother responded by putting her hands on her hips. "That's not for you to worry about." she said resolutely. "We had a bit left over from that drawing over the summer and after we saw your report cards, your father and I thought you deserved a little something extra."

On the other side of her, Mr. Weasley was nodding in agreement. "You like them?" he asked.

"**Like** them?" Fred repeated. "This is the best thing **ever**! Our old stuff was getting worn out, and the bats had splinters coming off of them. I've been expecting mine to snap in two for a while now."

Ron looked up from the new addition to his sweater collection to stare at Fred and George's presents with envy. He asked when he would get something nice like they did, but his mother shot him down, saying that maybe if he was on the Quiddich team and made a noticable improvement in his grades like the twins had, he would get something extra as well. The boy looked a little downtrodden and upset with that, but chose not to complain any further.

In the midst of all this, Constance was opening her own presents. She had recieved a new set of crystal phials, and a rather stunning collection of stones ranging from mundane to semi-precious for use in her Geomancy class. There were also a few books to add to her growing collection of first edition literature. She also discovered just why Alucard had been banned from aunt Syn's office. His Casull had been causing problems and after needing to be repaired four times over the past year, the gunsmith convinced Integra that it was time for it to be replaced. Connie's mother had commissioned her to design a new gun for the master vampire. All Alucard physically recieved were a detailed set of plans, but he was studying them with interest and approval.

"I briefly entertained the notion of getting you a muzzle, but I thought you'd enjoy it too much." Integra commented when she heard the vampire questioning aunt Syn about her design's potential 'penetration power'.

Alucard glanced up from the plans with a wide grin on his face. "You know me too well, Master." he purred.

Edmund chuckled at his statement, then looked over at Hermione. "We have something for you too." he said. "I don't know if you can really call it a 'present', but we thought it was appropriate to give it to you now."

Hermione sat upright in surprise. "**Me**?" she asked. "But... you didn't have to..."

"I know that, but this was important." he replied. He reached out and extended a long, thin box to her. "Go on."

The girl took the box from him and everyone stopped what they were doing to watch her unwrap it. When she pulled off the lid, she gasped at what lay inside.

"My wand!" she said, pulling it out to stare at it in astonishment. "But it was broken, wasn't it?"

Syn looked over to smile at her. "It was, but we fixed it."

Mr. Weasley looked amazed. "I've never heard of a wand snapped in two like that that **could** be fixed." he said. "We had to replace Ron's wand, and it wasn't damaged as badly as Hermione's was."

"Non living magic can't repair a wand, but ours certainly can." Edmund told him. "It's a little complicated, but not impossible." he turned back to Hermione. "We've heard wizards get attached to their wands after using them for a while, so we thought there was no point in forcing you to get a new one when we could repair your original wand and give it back to you. If you want to test it out to make sure it's working right, we can set something up where you can cast a few spells without the Trace picking them up."

Hermione blinked at him in thankfulness and looked back down at her wand. "Thank you." she said sincerely. She brushed her fingers lovingly along the wood. "I know this is going to sound strange, but... it... **feels** right. It... feels like it used to, so I'm sure it will work. You don't have to go to any trouble..."

Syn shook her head. "It doesn't sound strange at all." she assured her. "You know what your wand feels like better than anyone, so you should be able to recognize it. And it wont be any trouble to let you test it out. If you do it here and anything seems off, we can fix it right then and there. That's better than you finding out later and being stuck with it for God knows how long until we can get to it." she glanced in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's direction. "Unless you have a problem with that?"

They both looked at each other for a moment, then shook their heads. "No, I don't see how that would be a problem." Mr. Weasley said.

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together. "As long as it's safe."

Aunt Syn immediately rolled her eyes, but Connie's dad jumped in before she could say anything. "It's perfectly safe." he told her. "You could be there and watch for yourselves if you like." he waved a hand. "Not a big deal."

Mrs. Weasley looked pleasantly surprised by the offer and agreed that would be acceptable. Everything had been given out and now all that was left was for everyone to enjoy the things they had gotten. However, there was one person who, very noticeably, didn't recieve anything.

"Okay, I've suffered enough." Mihnea proclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest with a resentful sounding huff. "Where are **my **presents?"

The members of Hellsing all began looking at each other quite mischeviously. Syn and Alucard themselves shared a meaningful look, then the woman cleared her throat innocently.

"I don't know what you're talking about, baby." she said sweetly. "Once I get this new gun made for your father, I'll modify Venom so you'll be able to use the 454 Casull rounds. You've always wanted to use them, so isn't that a present?"

Mihnea stared at her. "That's **it**?" he asked. "Come off it already!"

"Come off of what?" his mother asked, cocking her head to the side like she didn't know what he was talking about.

The boy gaped at her, then focused his attention on Alucard. "Dad, seriously. Where are the presents?"

The No Life King slowly arched a brow as he slid his sunglasses down his nose. "I don't know of any 'presents'." he replied.

"**Present**, then." Mihnea ammended, choosing to interpret his words that way. "Please tell me I got **something**."

"Oh, believe me, you definitely got something." the vampire replied.

"For Christ's sake..." he muttered in irritation. "What **is** it?"

Alucard's arched brow travelled higher. "You should know better than invoking Christ to elicit a response from me, my son." he chided. "Patience is a virtue. Perhaps you should show some."

Mihnea just sniffed. "Fancy **you** being the one to give a lecture on 'virtues'." he said.

His father chuckled. "I'll happily admit that I don't have many, but patience is one of the few virtues I do possess."

"You lot are awful." Integra commented. "Torturing my poor nephew over something so trivial." She glanced at Edmund. "How did I get talked into allowing this again?"

"Because Alucard and Syn were very persuasive." Edmund told her with an amused smile. "And it's **fun**."

"Oh yes. I had quite forgotten." Connie's mother said with a small smile of her own. "Thank you for reminding me. It is fun, isn't it?"

Seras giggled and reached over to poke at Mihnea's shoulder. "You should be thankful." she told him. "I never got anything like this."

Mihnea was so frustrated with all of them that it looked like he was fighting back the urge to pull his hair out. "You're evil!" he exclaimed. "Every last one of you! This is torture!"

Pip held up his hand. "Excusez moi, I 'aven't done anyzhing." he pointed out.

"Tell me what it is then." he challenged.

"Non." he replied with a firm shake of his head. "I 'ave been zworn to zecrecy."

Mihnea huffed again and slumped, his expression becoming thoughtful. He then decided to switch tactics and pulled himself up on his kness and turned to look at his mother with a hopeful, pleading expression akin to a puppydog begging for a treat.

"Please?" he asked sweetly.

Aunt Syn made a face. "Oh God, not the eyes..."

Taking that as an opening, he then blinked and brought his hands up in front of him and stuck out his bottom lip. "Pleeeeaaaase, mom?"

Alucard just watched him. "Are you **begging**, boy?" he asked pointedly.

"Absolutely not." Mihnea replied, sobering for the moment it took him to answer. "I'm asking **very** nicely."

"Ah ha."

"I am!" he insisted. "Nothing else is working!"

Something in the redhead shifted and she gave the vampire a look of reproach. "Oh, leave him alone. We've tortured him enough." With that, she reached behind her to retrieve a tiny wrapped box she had kept hidden all this time. "Here." she said. "And be careful, it was **very** expensive."

After all of that, no one expected the present to be so small. Mihnea himself blinked at the box in bewilderment and took it from her. When he got the paper off, the black box itself looked like the sort meant to hold a small piece of jewelry. But that obviously wasn't what was inside of it because when her cousin took off the lid, he stared at the contents for a long time. He didn't move or react. He just... sat there. It actually looked like he had stopped breathing altogether. Constance couldn't imagine any type of jewelry, no matter how expensive, that could inspire that sort of reaction in her cousin.

"Good Lord, we've finally done it." Edmund exclaimed. "He's gone into shock!"

Connie was getting fed up with not knowing anything. "Well?" she asked, scooting toward him in the hopes of catching a glimpse for herself. "What is it?"

Mihnea blinked and shook himself out of his stupor. He looked at her with the widest, happiest grin she had ever seen him wear before. "It's a key."

Fred and George exchanged a look of confusion. "A key?" they asked. "You've gone all googley eyed over a ke...? **OH**. Bleeding hell, is that a **car** key?"

Judging from what Mihnea was holding up, it wasn't just **any** car key. The keyring bore the emblem of McLaren - widely considered to be the best and fastest sports car in the world. The initial shock of the thing finally seemed to be wearing off and her cousin suddenly began yammering at his parents in exictement.

"Is this for real?" he asked. "What kind is it?"

His reaction had his mother beaming with pride. "It's an F1 Royalty." she told him. "Everything is custom; no standard showroom nonsense. We put in a **killer** sound system and Ed mighthave played around with the engine a bit."

When Mihnea whirled around to face him, Connie's father coughed. "I didn't do **that** much." he said. "I just made sure the extra weight wouldn't affect performance."

Syn nodded. "I wasn't really sure what to get, since I know you like motorcycles too..." she admitted, then pointed at Alucard. "But he put his foot down and wouldn't let me argue for once."

"Has anyone driven it yet?"

"Juzt what eet took to get eet 'ere." Pip replied, with a look that wasn't far off from the one the boy wore. Constance imagined he had been the one to drive it home. "She purrz like a wet dream."

Mihnea's eyes went wider, if that were possible, and he suddenly bolted up from the floor, demanding to know exactly where it was so he could see for himself. Everyone else began begging Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to go see it too, since they had never seen a proper sports car before. In all the chaos, Integra raised her voice to get everyone to calm down so she could lay down some ground rules. Mihnea could drive it if he wanted but he wasn't allowed to take the car off the property tonight, and she gave him a stern warning to keep his speed under a hundred. Since the car itself only had two seats (and Mrs. Weasley didn't want her children riding in it if he was going to do any crazy stunts), Connie would get to ride shotgun while the others watched from a safe distance. Her cousin agreed that he didn't have a problem with the others coming to see for themselves, so long as they didn't try to do anything. He hadn't even **seen** the bloody car yet, and he was already acting protective of it. Mihnea ran off to the garage to have first look, while everyone else gathered up their things to put them in their rooms before joining him. It was then, when things had calmed down and were somewhat quieter, that Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat.

"Connie?" she asked carefully.

Constance paused in adjusting all the presents in her arms more comfortably to look over at her. It was the first time the woman had spoken directly to her since their arrival, and the sound of her name took her by surprise. The others took note as well and stopped what they were doing to watch. Mrs. Weasley glanced at her husband for a small moment, almost like she were looking for reassurance, then turned back to her.

"We had something for you as well." she said. "I meant to give it to you before you left our house, but all of this happened..." she paused to shake her head, then pulled out another wrapped gift. "Anyway, it's not very much, but I wanted you to have it."

_Do what?_ Connie wondered. She was under the impression that Mrs. Weasley didn't like her much anymore, but now she was going to give her a Christmas present? Feeling very awkward and unsure of herself, she set her packages down on an empty spot on the sofa and went over to take it from her.

"Thank you." she said quietly, then untied the twine wrapped around it and pulled off the brown paper.

It was one of her sweaters. The ones she knitted for Harry and all of her children every year. It was a soft, sea-foam green color with a simple gold 'C' in the middle. There was nothing fancy about it, but the fact that she had taken the time to make it by hand was extremely touching. This wasn't something Mrs. Weasley did for everyone. Even Hermione, who was a close friend to Harry and Ron and would be a member of their family from now on, had only gotten a hat and gloves. Maybe she was thinking too much of it, but the fact that she was willing to give her something so special made her heart crawl up into her throat.

"It's beautiful." she said, genuinely meaning it. Connie brushed her fingers across the edges of her initial, then looked up. "I love it."

Mrs. Weasley appeared just as uncomfortable as she felt. "Well, like I said, it's not much, but..."

"No, it's a lot." Constance interrupted, unable to stop herself. She glanced around at everyone else, doing her best not to tear up before turning back to the woman. "Is it okay if I hug you?"

She blinked at her in surprise before her expression shifted - becoming softer and more welcoming. "Of course you can, dear." she told her. "You don't have to ask."

It was something else she hadn't heard for the past several days. She called her 'dear'. When she hugged her, Mrs. Weasley put her arms around her in the same sort of embrace she had given the first time they met.

"I'm sorry if I've done or said anything to make you think I believe you're bad or that I don't want you around." the woman said softly, where only she could hear it. "I don't think that at all. You've been a good friend to my boys and Ginny and you've been good for George. You are **not** bad." when they pulled apart, Mrs. Weasley looked a bit teary eyed herself. She quickly dabbed at her eyes before her children noticed and spoke louder. "Now, you know if you ever want to come stay at our house for any reason, you're always welcome. Always."

"Thank you." Connie told her. She was being accepted, and there was no greater feeling in the world.

Down on the floor, George looked back and forth between the two of them and coughed. "Finally decided to stop being stupid, hey mom?"

Mr. Weasley was closer to him and he nudged him with his foot. "Be nice to your mother." he chided. "She's had a rough time of it."

"Yeah, like no one else has." Fred chimed in. He was further away, so he was able to avoid being hit or nudged.

Constance's mouth fell open and she quickly balled up the paper that had been wrapped around her sweater and threw at him, hitting him in the face. "You shut your mouth, Fred Weasley, before I find something bigger to throw at you!"

The twins both simpered down, while Mrs. Weasley let out a small laugh at her action. From where she was sitting, Connie's mother arched a brow.

"Just please restrain yourself from throwing anything breakable." she told her. She waved at her with a finger. "What did you get?"

Connie immediately stood and held up the sweater for their appraisal. Seras quickly declared it was very pretty, while Harry commented that she should put it on like the rest of them had done with theirs. The girl thought that was a wonderful idea, so she slipped it on over her head. It was a size too big and the arms extended down over her hands far enough that they had to be rolled up, but otherwise, she thought it was about the most comfortable piece of clothing she'd ever worn.

"Hmm... very nice." her father proclaimed. He looked back toward Mrs. Weasley. "You make all of them yourself?"

When the woman nodded, Syn leaned forward a bit to get a closer look. "I don't know how you manage." she commented. "My mother knitted things for me when I was younger, but I never had the patience to learn."

Mrs. Weasley gaped at her and said something about not being able to understand how she could cook and make those weapon things of hers and not be able to learn how to knit. Aunt Syn sniffed at her and said that cooking was the only 'domestic' talent she had, and even then, Edmund was better at making everything other than desserts. This started up a debate about whether or not it mattered, due to some regular dishes being less complicated and easier to make than the desserts Syn was so good at. Watching them go at each other was really odd because in the midst of their arguing, they both openly admitted that one was better at something than the other - albeit in a very competitive and combative way. Ron finally got sick of listening to it and decided to break it up.

"Okay, well that's all well and good, but can we go now?" he asked, deliberately making a point of showing off the stuff he was carrying. "We've got a car to go see!"

"Yeah!" twins said, joining in. "And we think it's right stupid Connie gets to ride while we have to stand back and watch. If **she** can do it, why can't we?"

"Because I **said** so, that's why." their mother proclaimed. "That car is **Mihnea's** present, not yours. If he wants to let Connie ride with him, that's one thing, but you have no right to go pushing yourselves into it because you think it's fun."

They argued over the matter for a bit longer, but Mrs. Weasley made it clear that she wasn't going to change her mind. The boys were obviously unhappy about it, but got all their things together so they could go on and get downstairs quickly.

Even with her looking forward to getting to ride in a fancy new car, Constance thought it was even nicer that as they left their rooms to go to the garage, she could hold George's hand in front of his mother without feeling the weight of her disapproval on her shoulders.

* * *

><p>A.N: Don't ask me how this happened. They just keep getting longer on their own. I had nothing to do with it. .<p>

Review...?


	54. Taking a Gamble

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

_I'm sorry it's taken me a while to write back to you. Dad and I have been in Ireland searching for blue-toed wigglypinks. They're rare creatures that humans can only see when they sneeze. Finding them is problematic because everyone has trouble keeping their eyes open when they sneeze. While we were there, I happened to see a flash of pink and blue in the forest, but it went by so fast that I couldn't tell much about it. My dad was very excited about the close encounter and he believes that if we had been able to spend more time there, we would have found one and been able to study it._

_Somehow, I knew you would let your parents read the last letter I sent, and I'm glad they liked it. I know my dad is very open-minded about things, but he's still my dad and he asks questions like anyone else. I couldn't tell him everything of course, since I promised not to, but I thought the best way to explain was to say that it was rather like I had found an older brother I didn't know I had before. I think he understood the idea I was trying to get across. In any case, yes, I've heard about 'heralds' before and I would be honored to wear one if you wanted me to. I had been wondering about that actually, but I wasn't sure if it was appropriate seeing as how you're just as human as vampire, and humans don't do things like that._

_There is something I'd like to ask you about though. When dad and I got back home, we found out about there being some sort of attack by vampires in the area. Dad hasn't told me all the details, but it sounds like there were several deaths in the muggle village nearby. There are only two magical families living near us, and the Diggorys were away at the time just like we were. We haven't heard anything about the Weasleys. I know your cousin Constance is dating George Weasley and I remembered you saying something about her staying with them for a while before Christmas, so I thought you might know something. Their house is only a mile or so away from ours so I could go see for myself, but Dad said he didn't want me wandering around outside for long until we knew it was safe._

_-_Luna

_I've never heard of these 'blue-toed wigglypinks' before, but I'm sure if they're out there, you'd be the one to find them. I have to ask though - how do you intend to catch one if you can only see them when you sneeze? It seems like you'd have a hard time learning about them if you can only see them for split seconds at a time. No searching for crumple horned snorkacks this trip?_

_Well, all I can say about that letter you sent is that it made my mother understand that you know what you're doing. I love her to death, but she worries about absolutely everything. I think she was impressed that you came up with it by yourself without me telling you what she was concerned about. Oh, by the way, both of my parents think this idea you have about flibbitigibbits is really interesting, so once you've finished that paper you're working on, they'd like to read it. My mom can't see auras so it's not something she's ever thought about, but my dad can and he says he's never considered the idea of the dark halo being caused by microscopic organisms before. They think you might be onto something._

_This would be the first herald I've ever made, but my dad helped me come up with it and I like the way it turned out. I'm sending it along with this, so consider it my Christmas present to you. It's a little different than others I've seen before, but I thought it should fit your personality. I hope you like it._

_I didn't know you lived so close to the Weasleys... Why didn't you tell me? I'm glad you were out of the country at the time because I would have to go hunting the bloody things down if something happened to you. As far as the rest goes... well, it's really complicated, but Connie and all of the Weasleys are fine. I can't say much else about it right now. Not that I don't trust you, but... it's just complicated. Just know that everyone is okay and they're safe. Your dad is right. Dont go wandering around by yourself - especially at night._

_Let me know when you get this. And if you happen to hear anything new or interesting about this 'vampire thing' that happened, pass it on to me. I'm interested in what's going as much as you are._

_- _Mihnea

_Oh my goodness! I opened the box the moment it arrived and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! I love it, I love it, I love it! I put it on immediately and I'll never take it off!_

_I'm not surprised that you don't know what blue-toed wigglypinks are. As I said, they're extremely rare creatures, so not many people know about them. If you're interested, my dad published an article about them in the latest issue of the Quibbler. I can show it to you if you like. It's mostly theoretical, of course - nothing concrete - but it's a great introduction to them. The author is a man who's written several articles for the magazine before and all of them have been excellent reads. And we never intended to 'catch' one. I personally think it's more informative to watch how they behave in their natural environment. Being able to see them for only seconds at a time is part of the reason why I'm so interested in them. I'm sure once we've figured out exactly where they are, dad and I can experiment with different techniques to find something that allows us to view them for longer periods of time._

_And of course we weren't looking for crumple horned snorkacks, silly. They're found in Sweden, not Ireland._

_Do your parents really think that? That's wonderful! I wouldn't mind letting them read my paper at all. I'd like to do a bit more research so it's more fleshed out before I send it to anyone though._

_I never thought it was important to mention that I lived close to the Weasleys because our families don't have much to do with each other. I get on well with Ginny at school of course, but we never go to each other's houses for visits or anything. I might not have noticed anything strange at all except that Dad took a walk not long after we got back home, and he said the door was torn off it's hinges and it looked like no one was there. I'm glad they're all alright. I understand not wanting to talk about other people's business, but you know I wouldn't say anything. People talk about me all the time, so I would never do it to someone else. In any case, I did ask my dad if he's learned anything else about what happened while we were away. There isn't anyone at the Ministry of Magic who's willing to talk to him about things like this, but he knows people who know people there. He couldn't get many details, but it sounded like the vampires hadn't been aiming to attack Ottery St. Mary at all. They only went there because it was close to their actual target. Aside from that, we don't know what they were doing. It seems to me that the Ministry is covering things up so no one can find out what really happened. Fudge has a habit of doing that, you know. The man has a personal army of heliopaths no one knows about because anyone who gets hard information on them is killed and baked into one of his pies._

_Oh, by the way, I finally finished the dreamcatcher. I apologize for it being late, but I was having trouble figuring out how to finish off the final knots so they wouldn't show. I made something else as well. I already have a charm against nargles for myself, so I used the butterbeer corks you gave me to make one for you. I don't know if you have a problem with nargles at your house, but it never hurts to have a charm around this time of year. (In case you didn't know, they like to make nests in sprigs of mistletoe. I recommend you avoid standing beneath it if you can.)_

_-_Luna

Mihnea couldn't help but grin at Luna's last letter. Fudge had a personal army of 'heliopaths' and she didn't want him standing under any mistletoe? How cute. Still, he wasn't surprised to hear that the Ministry was covering things up. He hadn't expected the girl to find out about the attacks to begin with, and had been shocked senseless when he learned she actually lived in the area. With her unusual degree of perception, he imagined that once they all got back to school, she would hit pretty close to the truth without him telling her anything.

That thought gave him pause. Luna knew a lot about him, but she didn't know everything. It was odd to find himself in a position where people he trusted less than her knew more than she did. Maybe... maybe when they got back to school, he'd come out and talk to her about his family. For once, he found that the idea wasn't worrisome. It was only fair, after all. All of Connie's friends knew about them now, so he should be able to do the same with his. He believed Luna was trustworthy and would keep it to herself.

After sending off the owl that brought the delivery, Mihnea readjusted himself more comfortably in his hammock by the window to open the box that came with the letter. Inside, wrapped in white tissue paper, were two objects. The first was the nargle charm - a collection of six brightly painted butterbeer corks strung on black cord. Mihnea paused to slip it over his head, then moved to unwrap the other. He had only seen Luna working on the dreamcatcher during it's beginning stages, so he had no idea what the finished product would look like. The outer hoop was wrapped with various shades of green, red, and blue ribbon. A simple, yet nicely woven web was knotted in the center with some of the strands bearing the occasional colorful glass bead. The ribbons that adorned the hoop were used again at the bottom, hanging at various lengths with the ends tied off with larger, painted wooden beads and feathers. Luna seriously miscalculated her talent, he thought. While it obviously wasn't made by a professional, it wasn't shabby looking in the least. In fact, this particular dreamcatcher had more character to it than some of the others he owned.

Down on the floor, Pixie was growing interested in what he was doing and leapt up into the hammock with him. When she sat down on his lap, Mihnea took a sip from his blood pack and held up the dreamcatcher for her appraisal.

"What do you think?"

The cat's head cocked to the side and she meowed, batting a paw at the dangling feathers and beads.

Mihnea scratched between her ears and smiled. "I like it too." he agreed. He gave her a pat to signal her to jump down, then climbed out of the hammock himself. "We need to find a good place for it."

There were more than forty dreamcatchers hanging from the ceiling above his bed, so he would have to find a space large enough for Luna's to hang without the others getting in the way. He spotted a good location, selected a screw-in hook from the top drawer of his dresser, then clenched the bag of medical blood between his teeth so he could climb up on his bed to hang it. Pixie leapt up to join him, sitting close enough to his right foot that he could feel her presence without actually getting in the way. He was working on turning the hook into place when a knock sounded on his door.

"Yeah?" he called out, not thinking much of it.

There was no audible response but the door slowly swung inward, revealing Hermione Granger standing there in her faded jeans and blue sweater. Her hair was wilder looking than usual - like she just rolled out of bed and decided not to tame it with a brush. She peered inside, trying to figure out where he was. Upon locating him, she blinked in surprise. Probably because he was standing on a bed trying to screw something into the ceiling.

"Oh." she said. "I didn't know you were busy. I can come bac..."

Her words dropped off and Mihnea noticed that her eyes had drifted down to his mouth. Or, more specifically, what was **in** his mouth. _**Shit.**_ He thought. _Shit shit shit_. He never bothered switching the blood he drank into dark colored bottles while he was home because there was never a reason to hide. After all of Connie's buddies were brought to the manor, he responded by only drinking when he was in his room to avoid any awkwardness that might come from them seeing it. He hadn't expected any of them to come to his room for something - much less Granger. But there she was, staring at him while he had a bag of medical blood in his mouth, and for a moment, he had no idea what to do.

_To hell with it. _ He thought. This was **his** room. If the girl didn't want to see something that made her uncomfortable, she should have thought twice about waltzing into his personal space. Mihnea reached up and took the blood pack from his mouth so he could speak properly.

"This will just take a second." he told her. "What did you want?"

Hermione blinked and shook her head. "I... wanted to see if you had any litter I could use for Crookshanks." she said. "You told me to ask if I needing anything..."

_Oh, right._ He'd forgotten about that. "Yeah, I have some." he replied. "Give me a mintue and I'll get it for you."

He made a sweeping gesture to the room - partly to invite her in so she could wait, but more out of morbid curiosity to see whether she'd do it or not. The girl gingerly stepped over the threshold and walked to the center of the room, peering around at everything. Mihnea grabbed the opening of the blood pack with his teeth again and went back to his work, but it wasn't long before he caught her watching him again.

"It's not polite to stare, Granger." he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her flinch. She didn't know he'd been watching her.

"I'm sorry." she said, embarrassed at being caught. "I just... didn't know you..."

Mihnea turned and arched a brow. "Drank blood?" he finished for her.

Granger flinched again, then frowned. "Yes." she replied, then shook herself like she were trying to regain her composure. "I suppose I should have known that, but I honestly hadn't thought about it much."

The boy's brow went a bit higher. She appeared more awkward and unsure rather than fearful. He supposed he should be thankful she didn't run away screaming or something equally obnoxious.

"Fancy that." he commented as he turned back to what he was doing. "I always took you to be the kind of person who thought about everything."

"Normally I do, but I've been... a bit out of sorts lately." she said. She cleared her throat. "Your arm seems better."

"It is." he replied. His fingers went numb when he used them for too long and he still had trouble with heavy objects, but at this rate, it would definitely be back to normal before school started. "I told you not to worry about it." When he saw her move to speak, he shot a look in her direction. "And don't you dare apologize again. It's annoying. Once was enough."

Granger's mouth snapped shut, indicating that his assumption of what she'd been about to say was correct. "Fine." she said. "I wont." She shuffled her feet and looked around again, honing in on something hanging on the wall near his desk. Her eyes widened in curious surprise. "Is that a **sword**?" she asked, rushing over to get a closer look. "Is it real?"

"Yes, it's rea..." Mihnea began, only to snap to attention when he saw what she was doing. "Dont touch it!"

Hermione froze and jerked her hand away from the metal before her fingers made contact. She looked horrified, and he realized just how harsh his words had come out. He forced himself to take a breath to calm down.

"It's old." he explained. "And it means something to me, so I don't want anyone messing with it."

The girl's lips formed a small 'o' of understanding and she took several steps back. "I'm sorry, I've just never seen one this close before. Aside from the sword of Gryffindor, that is." she turned back to peer at the weapon again. "How old is it?"

She was interested in swords now? "Late 1400's." Mihnea replied. "It was the sword my father used when he was human."

Alucard hadn't been able to retain much from his human life, so the fact that the sword had survived the centuries was amazing. Not that his dad was nostalgic or put great stock in things like family heirlooms, but the passing on of a weapon from father to son? Even the No Life King wasn't above that sort of tradition.

"Oh wow..." Hermione breathed, fascinated. "How on earth did he manage to keep it?"

"It laid up in his castle for centuries and he found it again." he told her with a shrug. "I thought it was cool, so he gave it to me."

"His **castle**?" she asked. "You mean Poenari? Wasn't it taken over by the government and made into a landmark?"

He'd heard how she had given everyone a history lesson after revealing she knew his dad's true identity, so it wasn't surprising she knew the name of one of his castles. Mihnea glanced at her sideways. "You're a smart girl, Granger. You don't really believe that's the only castle he had, do you? There were several of them scattered throughout the country. One was never identified as having an attachment to him, so there were a few things of his that were still there."

"**Really**?" she questioned with a gasp, looking excited by the idea. "Where is it?"

"It's a family secret." Mihnea said mysteriously. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Granger stared at him for a long moment, then finally realized he wasn't serious. "Be that way then. It was only a question." she said with a sniff. She paused thoughtfully. "You... make it sound like you've been there."

"I have." he replied. "Dad took me and mom there once when I was younger. It was fun, once you got past having no electricity or running water."

It had been in the middle of winter too, so his mother had gone on for ages about how she thought Alucard was trying to freeze her to death. His dad had a ton of fun torturing her about staying wrapped up in ten pounds of fur the whole time. Mihnea personally thought it had been like a camping trip - only with a big ass castle instead of a tent. And the gyspies in the area were still loyal to his father (albeit with a healthy dose of fear) so a few of them had been around to act as servants. They had been **extremely** weirded out by his and Syn's presence, but they firmly believed that if they spoke of it to anyone outside of their little group, Alucard would hunt them down and make them suffer for the betrayal of confidence. The fact they had had single handedly kept the castle in good repair for nearly six hundred years without the vampire being there to hand out orders spoke volumes of what they thought he was capable of when crossed.

Mihnea finished screwing the hook into place and carefully hung Luna's dreamcatcher upon it. Once he was satisfied with how it looked amongst the others, he nudged Pixie out of his way and climbed down. He had been drinking from the blood pack during their little conversation so it was nearly empty. After swallowing down what was left, he tossed it in the garbage and headed over to the cabinet that held all of his 'kitty keeping' supplies. He crouched down and pulled open the door.

"Was litter all you wanted, or do you need more food too?" he asked. He had asked Connie to give the girl some cat food days ago, but he wasn't sure how much she usually fed him.

Granger shook her head. "Just the litter." she said. "There's still enough food for several days." she stopped, as if thinking of something. "But... actually, now that I'm thinking about it, do you have anything I could use to cut his claws? They're getting long and he likes to scratch."

"Pixie hates clippers. She threw a fit every time I tried to use them, so I got rid of the only pair I had." he admitted. "But I have a scratching board you can use."

The girl's brows furrowed. "Scratching board?"

He pushed himself up from the floor and passed the bag of cat litter to her. "It's like a giant nail file." he explained. "You drop some catnip down through the holes and the cat goes crazy trying to get it. They do all the work themselves."

Hermione's eyes lit up with interest and she declared it was rather clever idea she hadn't thought of before. Mihnea looked around and found the board was laying on the floor across the room. However, when he went over to fetch it, Pixie seemed to realize what he was doing and leapt down from the bed to run over and lay on top of it before he could pick it up. She did **not** like having one of her precious possessions being taken away.

"For God's sake, Pixie!" he exclaimed with a huff. "Will you stop acting stupid?" he pointed back at Granger. "Let the nice girl borrow it for a while. It's not going away forever."

The feline rolled onto her back and wiggled around, looking up at him with a pleading expression.

"Or I can give it to her and you wont have anything at all." he threatened.

Pixie blinked at him, then sprang up to her feet with a tortured sounding meow. That was an unacceptable alternative.

Mihnea sniffed. "That's what I thought."

He picked up the board, then gathered the cat up into his free arm for good measure - just to make sure she didn't try to sabotage anything else. Pixie squirmed and meowed in displeasure when he went back to give the board to Granger.

"Sorry." he told her, readjusting the animal more comfortably in his arms. "She doesn't like sharing."

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no, it's fine." she assured him. "I think Crookshanks would act the same way." She then turned her attention directly to Pixie. "I'll bring it right back, I promise."

The cat just pulled back her head to study her - as if she wasn't quite sure whether to believe it or not. Granger seemed to find the action cute and smiled softly at her before glancing back up.

"May I?" she asked.

From the way her hand was expectantly held out, Mihnea gathered she wanted to pet her. He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "If she'll let you." he replied. "She's picky about who she'll let touch her, so don't be surprised if she gets mad."

The girl nodded to show she understood then looked back at the animal and extended her hand a little further. His cat stared at it suspiciously for a long time, then began squirming backwards in his arms. When Hermione slowly moved it closer, Pixie let out a low, warning hiss and scuttled up his shoulder to jump down behind his back. She backed across the room, keeping her eyes on the girl until she encountered the large round cushion she used for a bed and sat down.

Mihnea shot a frown back at her then turned back with a sigh. "Told you." he said. "She's suspicious of everyone, so don't take it personally."

Granger looked a little down about the animal running away from her, but quickly shook it off. "Well, she knows Crookshanks is mine, so I suppose I should have expected that." she replied. "She is beautiful though. Did you get her at the Magical Menagerie?"

Mihnea shook his head. "No, it was a little place in Knockturn Alley." When he noticed her eyes start to widen at the mention of that place, he went on. "Mom and Uncle Ed use things that you can't find anywhere else, so we stop there for supplies every now and then. The people are obnoxious and they'll rob you blind if you let them, but being seen there keeps up my reputation with the Slytherins." he shrugged. "Anyway, Pixie's one of those breeds that's 'technically' illegal, so I wouldn't have been able to get her anywhere else. It's harder to control a domestic/wild mix than an animal with the wildness bred out of them, so most people get rid of them once the fun of having something exotic wears off." he gave her a meaningful look. "Don't tell anyone about that."

That wildness was exactly why he wanted Pixie in the first place. The owner of the store said that she was the only one of his cats that preferred to kill her own food, and she wasn't above attacking him when he stuck live rats into her cage. The sight of the kitten covered in so much blood that it looked like she'd taken a bath in her leftovers caused him to fall in love with her on the spot. And when Pixie first saw him, she immediately began clawing at the lock on her cage, wanting to get out. She had recognized that they were the same just like he did.

While Granger obviously didn't like the idea of the infamous Knockturn Alley, she understood the reason behind his request.

"Oh, no, I won't say anything." she promised. "I was only asking because Crookshanks lived in that store for years before I came along and I thought, with the way she acts around him, she might have seen him before. The owner said he used to cause trouble among the other cats a lot." she paused, caught up in a memory. "My parents finally agreed to let me get an owl, but he... came out of nowhere and jumped on me. I'd never seen an animal do that before and when I heard that no one else wanted him, I couldn't say no."

Mihnea hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe he was waiting for you." he offered.

The girl blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He stepped back and shrugged again. "Cats are just as intellegent as people. Some of them are even more intellegent, if you ask me. They choose us just as much as we choose them. Maybe no one else seemed to want him because **he** didn't want them."

Granger appeared dumfounded by the statement, but thoughtful as well. Surely she was smart enough to realize that some cats out there weren't just ordinary animals. "I... never thought about it that way." she admitted.

She thanked him again and readjusted the objects he'd given her more comfortably in preparation to take them back to her room. But just as she was about to leave, Mihnea called out to stop her. He had something he wanted to say while there wasn't an audience around, and this seemed like the best time for it.

"Hey, Granger?" he waited until she was looking back at him to clear his throat. "I'm sorry about your family. If I had gotten there sooner, I would have been able to do more."

Hermione didn't immediately react. She just... stood there for a while, studying him - first in a silent sort of surprise, then a slow dawn of realization. He wasn't sure if she fully understood that he felt somewhat responsible for their deaths, but she could see that the apology was sincere.

"I believe you did everything you could have." she said at last. "And I don't blame you for anything. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Though it wasn't much, her words took a weight off of his shoulders. Mihnea blew out a long stream of air and felt his muscles relax. He hadn't realized how tense they had been before.

"Thank you." he said.

The girl shook her head in response. "No, thank you." she told him. She shuffled her feet and gestured to the things she was carrying. "I'll... bring the board back later?"

He told her to just keep it and he'd get it back tomorrow. There was no point in rushing her when Pixie wasn't in desperate need to have her claws tamed. Granger then nodded and stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her. The moment she was gone, a dark, silky voice spoke from somewhere behind him.

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd start entertaining female guests." Alucard commented. "Especially a female guest who isn't afraid to come to your bedroom."

Mihnea rolled his eyes at his father's tease and turned on his heel to face him. The master vampire had appeared out of nowhere and was lounging in a chair next to the small round table across the room.

"She wanted stuff for her cat." he told him.

Alucard lifted a brow and hummed. He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands in his lap. "I see now why you were having so much trouble before." he said, glancing toward the door. "She and the little redheaded girl smell particularly delicious."

The boy might have gotten embarrassed about the insuating statement, but he had endured enough goading and teasing on the subject that he felt justified more than anything else.

"It's worse when they're bleeding." he said with a sniff.

His dad chuckled. "I can imagine, but I'd hardly describe the sensation as 'worse'." His crimson eyes sparkled with mischief, then drifted down to the corks hanging around his neck. "You've gotten a response from your pet, I see."

Mihnea glanced down at his nargle charm, then nodded. "Yep." he pointed over toward his bed. "She sent a new dreamcatcher too."

The vampire peered in the direction he indicated and studied the new addition to his collection. "Ah, so she's an artisan as well?" he asked. "You simply **must** bring her home with you sometime. I'd like to see this interesting creature for myself."

The boy tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, trying to imagine how a meeting like that would go. With the way Luna was, he couldn't see her being afraid of anything. She'd probably wander around, looking at everyone and everything whilst dreamily talking about how interesting it was.

"Maybe I will." he conceeded. He glanced at the table. "Chess?"

"Indeed." his father agreed.

* * *

><p>The rest of Christmas break went by like a blur. With so many new people in the house, there was always something to keep everyone entertained. The employees who had been off for the holidays began coming back a couple of days after Christmas and the Hellsing Organization began shifting back into it's usual level of operations. Connie's mother had meetings with the Round Table conference to attend, as well as all the paperwork that called for her attention. Her dad had business to take care of at his production factories, and aunt Syn had her schedule filled with modifying Mihnea's gun (which she wanted to get done before school started), building Alucard's new one, then all the regular inspections she had to do with the soldiers.<p>

When Rebecca and Jackson got back to the manor, they were immediately introduced to everyone as being the most 'highly ranked', servants in the household, so to speak. There were families in the magical world who could afford to hire governesses for their children, so there was no need to explain what Rebecca did. Jackson's job description, however, proved more problematic. Connie finally resorted to saying that the man was like a 'jack of all trades' who primarily served as Integra's personal assistant, but also did anything else around the house she didn't trust anyone else to do right. Hermione tried to give a more detailed explanation of what a muggle valet was, but it wound up making the wizards more confused than before she started.

Constance's birthday wound up being a real treat. It was the first time she got an actual party with friends in attendance. Every other birthday she'd had at home had been with only her family and **occasionally** (when they happened to be in the country at the same time) the younger members of the royal family that she was close in age to. But the fact of the matter was that those were more 'social friendships'. They got along and were friendly with each other, but they weren't so close that they 'hung out' or did things together often. Having a large group of people around that she truly cared about meant a lot and even though it was nothing fancy, Connie thought it was the best birthday she'd had to date.

But then the matter of returning to school quickly came upon them, and they had to work out a battle strategy of sorts to make sure they were all on the same page about what could and couldn't be said if anyone asked questions. Mr. Weasley had started going back to work and he made it very clear that the people there were intent on figuring out exactly what was going on with them.

"It sounds to me like Fudge has been covering things up the best he can, but there are always things that get out to people." he told them one night over supper. "The Ministry believes we've been in a safehouse guarded by Hellsing, not the place that's their center of operations." he gave all of his children a meaningful look. "You can't say a word to Percy."

"Wait a minute." Syn interjected, holding up a hand. She looked back and forth between him and his wife. "Who's Percy?"

"He's our older brother." Fred and George replied together with mutual frowns on their faces. "Big-headed arrogant sot..."

Mrs. Weasley gave a start. "**Don't** talk about your brother that way!" she commanded, then calmed down a bit to address everyone else. "We're on the outs with Percy at the moment." she said, obviously torn up about it. "He's... well, he's always been ambitious, but ever since he took that internship with the Ministry..."

It appeared she couldn't bring herself to say much else. Her husband frowned and cleared his throat.

"Percy... hasn't quite figured out how the world works yet." he explained. "He worships the ground Fudge walks on and believes the man is infallible. I don't like saying something like this about my own son, but I wouldn't put it past him to act as a spy for him. If he found out about something important, he'd pass it along without being asked just to advance his position."

Poor Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to burst into tears. "Arthur, maybe... if we explained things." she said, wringing her hands anxiously. "Made him understand what's going on. If he knew how bad it would be for everyone..."

"I've seen him at work, Molly, and I know how he acts." Mr. Weasley interuppted. "Percy's gotten so caught up in making himself look good that he's forgotten that power and position isn't everything. He believes he's in the right and nothing anyone tells him will make him see reason. It's too dangerous." he gave his head a firm shake, looking upset, though there was a glint of regret in his eyes. "I hate it, but he's grown now and he's chosen his side. All we can do is hope he comes to his senses before he does something he'll regret."

There was a short span of uncomfortable silence where both of them looked unhappy with the situation, knowing there wasn't anything they could do about it. It was awful that they would have to put Percy off if he asked any questions, but realistically, all of his siblings had reached the point where it wouldn't bother them. He had a superiority complex and made a right arse of himself most of the time, so telling him to mind his own business wouldn't be that hard to do. In their group, Hermione was the one who had the most respect for him (due to his being Head Boy), but even she agreed that it was best to leave him out of it.

When the time came for them to depart for Hogwarts, everyone packed up their trunks and congregated in the garage. The new wards on the Burrow hadn't been placed yet, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would remain at the manor for a few more days. Jackson would drive them to the train station, and there would be a car with a couple of soldiers in civilian dress that would follow to make sure nothing happened. Connie's parents gave her and Mihnea a warning to keep a sharp eye out, since the moment they boarded the train, they'd be on their own. It had always been that way and it had come up before, but the situation felt much more serious this time around.

After everyone got their hugs and final goodbyes, they were on their way. Jackson got them to the station without incident. The man usually didn't stay to actually see them off, but this time he came in with them and kept a watchful eye out as they went through the portal to board the platform. Some students had returned to school early, so it wasn't as busy at had been when they left, providing them with plenty of time and room to get their luggage into the car at the back. Mihnea then headed off toward his section of the train, while the rest of them boarded the Gryffindor car. There was a plethora of seats available, so they were able to get one all of them could fit in.

The ride itself was uneventful aside from Fred and George shocking everyone senseless by pulling wads of muggle money out of their pockets to count up. It turned out that when Pip heard they were into gambling, he told them about how the soldiers liked to hold poker tournaments. Connie had taught George how to play and he must have turned around and taught Fred because they both felt confident enough to get involved. And to the men's surprise, the pair started **winning**. They even went so far as to request Captain Bernadette to keep an eye on them to make sure they weren't cheating. When the vampire couldn't locate any signs of deception, the soldiers demanded the two of them be present at every game to give them a chance at beating them. It sounded like the men back home had seen as a 'male pride' thing that they just couldn't back away from. Fred and George made an enormous profit from it. While there hadn't been much wagered in each individual game (compared to what the soldiers normally bet during tournaments), the sum total of their winnings came out to be nearly three thousand euros.

Everyone's eyes were bulging at the number, but Fred and George wanted something more specific.

"What's that mean in our money?" they asked.

"I don't know, but it's **a lot**. Um..." Connie said, then looked over at Hermione. "I don't have a quill and you're better at mental math than me."

It turned out that there hadn't been a need for her to ask. Hermione was already thinking it over. She pressed her lips together pensievely. "It would be... four hundred and two galleons, five sickles and ten knuts." she declared. "Give or take a few."

"**Seriously?**" the twins exclaimed in unison.

"I'm pretty sure." the girl replied. "Wizarding money has an odd exchange rate, so I'd need to work it out on paper to be certain... but that's close to what it would be." she paused to narrow her eyes at them. "Does your mother know you've been gambling?"

The question made both of them sober up extremely fast. "Don't go and be a spoiled sport, Granger." Fred said with a frown. "It was all in good fun. No one got mad and it was won fair and square. Right Georgie?"

His brother nodded. "You gonna rat us out then?" he asked. He stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. "After we were so nice and did all that stuff for you?"

Hermione responded by crossing her arms over her chest like she were offended. "No, I'm not going to rat you out. I just hope you realize how **irresponsible** it is to play around with money that way. You could have lost everything you had 'fair and square'."

"But we didn't." George pointed out.

"And if we **had**, we wouldn't have complained since it would have been our fault." Fred said. He put on a serious expression and he glanced at his twin. "It's a wonder she wasn't born into our family. Sounds just like mom, doesn't she?"

"Just like her." George agreed, wearing the exact same look.

The rest of the trip was spent with everyone asking them what they planned to do with their winnings. Harry and Ron thought they'd be able to get a ton of supplies for their Wheezes with it, which was a good idea for building up a surplus. However, Constance chipped in and suggested that they not spent all of it in one place. If they were serious about this business idea of theirs, they would need money for marketing and a building to put a store in. Getting enough to pay for those things was going to take a while, so it would be best to start saving early. Fred and George thought that was a smashing idea and began thinking of the best ways to divide up what they already had, setting aside some for spending now, while the rest they would lock up somewhere and add to it when they could.

It was dark when the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade station and the air was colder than it had been in London. Since there were fewer students to worry about, there were only a handful of carriages waiting to take them to the castle. All of them were full except for the one at the end of the line. Constance was making her way toward it when she noticed the others had stopped. She turned around to see what was going on.

"What's wrong?"

The whole group of them had frozen in their tracks, staring at something in front of them. That was when it hit her. All of them had witnessed death - Hermione with her parents, and the rest with the vampires at the Burrow. They could see the thestrals now.

"Bloody hell, what **are** those things?" Ron asked, peering at them nervously.

"They're thestrals." Connie replied.

Harry looked away from the beasts long enough to blink at her. "What's a thestral?"

"It's a rare breed of carnivorous winged horse." Hermione said, putting her encyclopedia of a brain to the task. She spoke more slowly than usual, like she was disturbed by their presence too. "They're dark creatures that can only be seen by people who have witnessed death." She shook her head and peered at Constance. "The carriages were never spelled to pull themselves, were they? It's been thestrals the whole time."

She sounded more curious than genuinely upset and Connie nodded in response. To her left, Ron huffed.

"Seriously Connie, we need to talk about this 'not telling people stuff' thing you do." he said, looking irritated. "You don't think the carriages being pulled by blood drinking horses that look like skeletons is something worth **mentioning** to a person?"

"Shut **up**, Ron." George warned.

"Merlin, George, I'm just saying..."

The girl sighed. She had been dealing with this same issue so often over the past two weeks that she no longer had the energy to get upset about it anymore.

"You wouldn't have been able to **see** them before now." she pointed out. "Would you have believed me if I told you about them?"

The ginger haired boy studied her for a moment then deflated and looked down at the ground. He muttered something under his breath, but she couldn't make out what it was.

"Excuse me?" Connie asked.

"I **said** I probably would have thought you were going barmy." Ron repeated louder.

"Precisely." she said.

Making a declaration that she would like to get to the castle before her fingers and toes dropped off from frostbite, Constance began a forward march toward the carriage. Since there was nothing they could do about the travel arrangements, her friends followed. The other students had already gone, meaning that they would be the last ones to arrive at the school. As they approached the carriage, everyone gave the thestral at the front a wide birth. Connie figured that seeing a huge black horse that looked like it could eat you if it wanted would take some getting used to no matter how open minded you were, so she couldn't get too upset at their silliness.

When they finally reached their destination, each of them disembarked from the carriage and went through the main doors of the castle. Constance would have thought that everyone would be in the Great Hall having a spot of supper, but was surprised to see someone wandering around in the main entranceway.

"Luna?" she called, recognizing the girl from her short stature and long blonde hair. "What are you doing here?" Connie paused when she saw that she was holding Pixie's leash and the cat herself was sitting complacently at her feet. "And... why do you have Mihnea's cat?"

The girl turned from where she was absentmindedly studying a random section of ceiling. "Oh, hello everyone." she greeted with that dreamy looking smile of hers. "I was waiting for you, actually. Mihnea wanted me to tell you that he's sorry he didn't wait for you, but he had some important business to take care of." she shifted her arms, showing that she had his messenger bag and cloak with her as well. "I'm holding onto his things until he gets back. It shouldn't be too much longer."

The others looked amongst themselves in confusion. "Uh..." Harry began. "What business does he have to take care of? We just got back."

"He's doing something awful to Vincent Crabbe, I expect." Luna replied as if talking about something that wasn't worth worrying about. "He knocked me down while we were getting off the platform and said some not very nice things. I told Mihnea that it didn't bother me and he shouldn't worry about it, but he just doesn't listen to me sometimes."

Constance blinked. That meant that her cousin had probably dragged Crabbe into some dark, hidden corner of the castle to beat the ever living snot out of him. Down on the floor, Pixie had taken notice of Crookshanks, who was being held in Hermione's arms, and padded in front of Luna. She rubbed against her legs - almost like marking her territory - whilst shooting the feline equivilent of daggers in his direction. The blonde girl herself didn't seem to think much of it and looked down at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but you know I can't pick you up while my arms are full." she told her.

Hermione looked perplexed (and a teensy bit offended for some reason) and leaned forward to whisper into Connie's ear. "That's really odd." she said. "I tried to pet her once and she **hissed **at me."

Indeed, it was pretty astonishing that Pixie was acting the way she was. Mihnea was the only person she allowed to touch her whenever he wanted. She'd let the rest of the family pet her on occasion, but it was always on her own terms. Anyone outside of immediate family... was unheard of. Pixie just didn't do it. **Ever**.

Since all of them were there, they decided to speak to the girl for a moment. Realistically, the others were probably waiting around to hear about what horrors Mihnea had put Crabbe through, but since Luna was there, it would be rude not to include her in a conversation. Ginny, who knew her best, asked how her holiday had gone. Luna politely replied that it had been wonderful. She then revealed that she had heard about the vampires attacking Ottery St. Mary, and was glad to see that all of them were alright. That gave everyone a good shock until Ginny realized where her knowledge must have come from.

"Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed. "I forgot you live just over the hill from us."

"It's okay. I'm not surprised you forgot where I live." Luna replied passively. "I'm an easy sort of person to overlook."

_Wow._ Constance thought. That was a depressing thing to say about yourself. The atmosphere suddenly became uncomfortable, and looking around, she wondered if the others weren't sure of how to respond out of the knowledge that the girl was probably right. Hermione took it upon herself to make an attempt at easing the awkwardness.

"That's an interesting bracelet you're wearing." she commented, gesturing to the girl's left arm. "I've never noticed it before. Is it new?"

Luna gave a small start and looked down at her wrist. "Yes, it's new. Mihnea gave it to me for Christmas."

Constance blinked. _Gave it to her for Chris... _she thought._ Oh. __**Oh!**_ He'd been working on a herald for her during the break, so that had to be what it was.

"Why that stupid prat!" she exclaimed. She would have kicked him if he were there. "He told me he was working on something for you, but he never let me see it." She peered at Luna questioningly. "Do you mind if I have a look?"

The blonde smiled and shook her head. "Of course not." she said. Luna readjusted the things she was holding so she could hold out her left arm.

Connie was still getting used to this idea of her cousin having a 'pet', but she had to admit the piece of jewelry he'd come up with for her was gorgeous. The band consisted of oval, polished moonstones - the same color as Luna's eyes - set in silver. Silver charms hung between the individual stones, shaped in a wide variety of forms - from ladybugs, frogs, and tennis shoes, to crescent moons, thimbles, and feathers. At the top of her wrist, in the same position the face of a watch would sit, was a flat, oval shaped piece of silver engraved with the image of a dragon. It looked eerily similar to Mihnea's familiar. The wings outstretched and prepared for flight, while one of the forelimbs was slightly raised with claws extended. Between the dragon's open jaws was a star with rays radiating out from it's center. Mihnea had always had a thing for astronomy and studying the heavens, so it made perfect sense. The engraving was expertly done (which was to be expected if aunt Syn had been responsible) and the entire bracelet had been carefully thought out and crafted to suit the personality of the girl wearing it.

"It's beautiful." she complimented.

Luna beamed happily and Constance thought it was the first time she'd ever seen the girl wear an expression that didn't show any signs of spaceyness.

"Thank you." she said graciously, pulling her arm back. "I thought so too."

Connie studied at her thoughtfully for a moment. Brought down to it's simplest parts, this whole pet thing meant that Mihnea had made Luna a member of the family. Her notion of getting to know the girl better needed to be moved up.

"We should do something sometime." she offered. "I don't know you nearly as well as I should, and it needs to be fixed."

Luna's head cocked sideways a bit as she considered the proposal, then nodded as well. "I'd like to do that. It's important now, isn't it?"

"What's important?" Connie heard her cousin's voice question.

Everyone turned to see Mihnea striding toward them from one of the side hallways. Constance stepped toward Luna and gestured to her.

"Oh, I was just saying that Luna and I should hang out sometime." she told him. She glanced down at the girl's new piece of jewelry then back at him, knowing he would catch it. "Would you have a problem with that?"

He joined their little group and wrinkled his nose at her. "Oh please, Connie. Don't be stupid." he said with a small huff of annoyance. "Do whatever you want."

Fred and George exchanged an odd sort of look bewteen themselves as Mihnea began taking his things back from Luna. They obviously thought something weird was going on between them, but weren't quite sure of whether to ask outright. So Fred decided to switch topics entirely.

"Heard you had some... **business** to take care of." he commented meaningfully.

Mihnea paused in pulling his bag onto his shoulder and glanced sideways at him. "You could say that." He replied. His lips slowly curled into an evil looking smirk and he brought up his hand to lick a trail of blood off his fingers.

The action made everyone's eyes widen, wondering what he could have done. He had to be showing off for the sake of scaring them, because it wasn't very much blood. You could get the same amount from a deep papercut. Luna, however, took his display in an entirely different way. She watched him lick his fingers, then turned her gaze onto the rest of them in a strangely curious way. Like she were trying to figure something out. Then she seemed to come to an understanding of what was going on and looked back at him with her usual level of calmness.

"You didn't bite him, did you?" she asked. "I hope not, because that would be a hard thing to try to explain."

Mihnea chuckled at her. "No, Luna, I didn't bite him." he assured her. "I just broke his nose." he paused for a moment. "And a few fingers. And I **might** have knocked a couple of teeth loose." he waved a hand. "He'll live."

"Oh, well that's alright then." the girl stated. She glanced back down the hallway he had come from. "I suppose you intend to just leave him where you left him and let someone else find him? That's a terrible thing to do, you know."

"Yeah, well, he deserves it." Mihnea countered. He looked back at the others for a moment. "I'll catch up with you guys later." he said, then took Luna's hand and the two of them began walking off toward the Great Hall. "Now," he said to her. "Finish telling me about the wrackspurts."

Constance thought the image of how they interacted with each other to be sort of endearing in an odd sort of way. But her friends looked completely flabberghasted.

"Bite him?" Ron repeated. He pointed down the hallway they had disappeared down. "That Luna girl **knows** what Bassarab is?"

Connie nodded in response. "Yes, she knows." she replied. "I'm not sure about everything else, but she definitely knows about him."

She then said that they needed to get to the Great Hall before supper was gone. She didn't really want to be put in a position of having to explain what was going on between those two. It was her cousin's business. Besides, she was getting hungry and they probably needed to find a teacher and tell them that one of Malfoy's goons was laid out in a hallway somewhere with a broken nose and loose teeth.

* * *

><p>Since they had gotten back to the castle later than everyone else, there weren't that many students down in the Great Hall. Everyone got to reunite with their fellow students and exchange the normal pleasantries of asking how the holidays had been. Whatever cover-up the Ministry put into place to keep the attacks from getting out appeared to be working. They had never been reported in the Daily Prophet, so no one was aware they had happened.<p>

But when they got back to the Gryffindor common room for the night, they ran into Percy. And all hell broke loose.

It seemed that Percy either hadn't been told about Harry and Hermione's houses being hit, or he thought it was better to leave them out of the discussion he wanted to have. He only dragged his siblings over into a secluded corner to speak to. Harry, Hermione, and Constance tried to get as close as they could so they could hear what was going on, but Percy would continually stop everything and order them to move along. It was downright annoying. Several students had gone up to their dorms for the night, but when the talk going on between the Weasleys descended into an all out argument, the room quickly began to empty of those who had stayed up. Only a mere handful were left behind, talking behing their hands and shooting weird looks at the collection of redheads whispering furiously at each other. Eventually, the threesome left out of the argument gave up on trying to get involved and slumped on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

"I wonder what they told him?" Hermione asked worriedly, shooting a look over the back of the couch. "I've never seen Percy so out of sorts before."

Harry frowned and looked over at Connie. "Why wouldn't they have told him about us being involved too?" he questioned. "Everything happened because they were trying to get to me."

Constance shook her head. "The Ministry is probably trying to prevent a panic." she said quietly. "People are already nervous about Black being on the loose. Can you imagine how they'd react if they knew he might have large groups of vampires helping him? Chaos would break out."

It was the same reason Hellsing covered up vampire attacks from the general populace when they were able to. One or two people could be made to see reason. Even a small group was manageable. But dealing with people in massive numbers was an entirely different animal. The collective intellegence of any group went down exponentially the bigger it grew. Society as a whole didn't think logically or consider every factor of a situation. It acted on pure emotion. Which was why the few people at the top who were in the know had to carefully judge what was appropriate to tell them. Sometimes you could use the fear and outrage of large numbers of people to your advantage. Other times... it was just bad for everyone no matter how you looked at it.

The fight going on behind them had apparently turned to a more general topic because their voices were growing louder. Connie wondered if there might be some way of getting them to break it up, but her thoughts were interrupted.

"Hey guys." Neville said, walking over to speak to them. He peered at Connie for a moment. "Nice glasses."

God love Neville Longbottom. He hadn't been downstairs when they arrived, and he now provided the perfect distraction. Tuning out the angry chorus of sounds pouring forth from the corner, the three of them greeted him warmly.

"Hey Neville." Harry said. "Did you go home again this year?"

The boy nodded in response. "Yeah, gran wanted me to come back. She's been redecorating the house again so she needed help moving stuff around..."

"...don't have a **bleeding** thing to do with us if you can help it, so why do you care?" George shouted. "Go back to doing your** important **things with those** important **people you love so much and leave us low-lifes alone why don't you?"

"Dont talk to me that way! I'm your **broth**...!"

"Shove it up your arse, Percy!"

All four of them winced. Neville's face screwed up and his eyes shot down to the floor.

"Man, it sounds bad." he mumbled, glancing over at the Weasleys. He swallowed and looked back at them. "Do you know what's going on?"

Hermione frowned deeply. "There's no telling." she said. "They've been going at each other for a while now."

Connie was glad she kept it so general. Everyone would think this was just an explosion that had been in the making for a long time. She shook her head and focused on the boy in front of her.

"I got something for Christmas you're going to **love**." she told him, deciding to focus on something pleasant. "A full set of stones and crystals. We'll be able to experiment with influences without having to schedule with Professor Apophyll to use his."

Just as she thought, Neville's eyes lit up and went wide with excitement. "Really!" he exclaimed. "That's great! I actually had a few ideas I've been wanting to try out after that last lesson on Amazonite..." he sobered a bit and peered at her. "You wouldn't mind sharing?"

It was good to see him looking forward to something so much. Neville's stutter completely disappeared when he was happy or excited. "Of course not!" she said, reaching out to give him a playful shove. "I said 'we' didn't I?" She suddenly remembered something. "Did you see your grades? What did you have?"

The boy blinked at her for a moment. "Oh! Right." He took a step back and reached behind him to retrieve a slip of paper from his pocket. "I wanted to show you when you got back. I swear Gran was so happy she floated up off the floor a few inches."

Oh, it had to be good then. Constance took the peice of parchment Neville handed to her and opened it up. The other classes listed weren't that great, but there were two that immediately stuck out. He had O's in Herbology and Geomancy.

"What did I tell you?" Connie said with a proud grin. "I knew you could do it!"

Hermione and Harry leaned over to get a look for themselves. "Are those O's?" Hermione asked. Her eyes lit up as well. "Oh, Neville, that's wonderful!"

Neville's ears turned red, but he looked pleased all the same. Constance couldn't see what he was embarrassed about. He had done well and had every right to proud. As she handed his report card back to him, Percy let out a vicious sounding stream of insults. Neville screwed his eyes shut and flinched again.

"I think I'd better go before it gets nasty." he said. He slipped his report card back into his pocket, then appeared to think of something. He turned to Harry. "Oh yeah, you might want to take a look under the tree before you come upstairs for the night. You've got a present."

Harry turned back around on the sofa to blink at him. "A **present**?" he repeated, confused. "But..." he gestured back toward the Weasleys. "They're the only ones that ever send me anything, and I was with them. Where'd it come from?"

"Don't know." Neville replied with a shrug. "I just found out about it myself. Seamus was here, and he said it was under the tree Christmas morning. He figures the house elves brought it up. It's sort of..." his words trailed off when a loud bang rang out from the corner, making him jerk involuntarily. "You'll see. See you later."

With that, he cautiously made his way across the room with the other students who decided to get the hell out before they got hit with a stray spell. Ginny had pulled her wand on her brother and it looked like the loud sound had come from the hex she cast striking stone instead of flesh. Percy had ducked behind a column near staircase to avoid being hit by it.

"Go on then!" the girl shouted at him. "Run like a coward! That's all you ever do anyway!"

Percy stuck his head out from behind a column. "Ginny..." he began.

"Dont you **dare**!" she shot back before he could finish. "Don't talk to me! Don't even **look** at me! Just... just... **leave** before I blast your face off!"

Percy took the threat seriously and ducked back behind the column and ran upstairs to the dormitories. Constance thought it was pretty impressive that Ginny could chase off someone significantly older and bigger than her. But when the girl turned and she saw for herself how pissed off she was, she understood. Ginny looked pretty damn scary so Connie might have given serious thought to running away too.

With Percy gone, the seven of them were left alone in the common room. Harry shot a brief glance up at the landing of the staircase to make sure no one was hanging around to spy on them, then cleared his throat.

"What did he say?" he asked.

Ron shot a dirty look up toward the dorms. "He thinks we've been cursed."

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "**What**?" she exclaimed. "But... anyone with half a brain could look at you and tell you haven't been!"

"Exactly." Fred and George said together. "He hasn't **got** half a brain."

They looked like they were going to explain the specifics of what had happened between them, but Constance quickly held up her hands to stop them.

"Come over here and sit down." she told them. She shot a look at the upper floors. "In case anyone decides to come back."

If they tried to talk to each other across a room, it would increase their chances of being overheard. Ron and the twins agreed and began walking over to join them, but Ginny held herself back. She was upset and didn't feel up to talking, so she said she'd rather just go up to her room and try to calm down. It honestly sounded like the best thing to do, since she could run interference and give them a heads up if she noticed any of their fellow housemates attempting to sneak back downstairs to see what the argument had been about. Her brothers just watched as she headed up to her dormitory, then let out mutual sighs of frustration. Fred and George plopped down in the loveseat sitting at an angle to the sofa Connie and the others were on, while Ron took a seat in the armchair across from them.

"So..." Constance began slowly. "Does... Fudge think we're manipulating you with magic or something?"

"No... Well, maybe." Ron said. He looked frustrated and confused by the whole thing. "Hell, we don't know. He didn't say anything about what Fudge thought. Percy wasn't making **any** sense at all. First he was going on about how Hellsing probably started the whole mess as a way of 'getting back at the Ministry' for something or other, then he started talking about how we must have been locked up and had our memories altered so we couldn't talk about anything."

Hermione's eyebrows knit together. "Locked up?" she repeated. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! Why on earth would they lock us up, only to let us go without getting anything out of it? And if you **did** have your memories altered, then he has no room to get upset because you wouldn't be able to tell him anything. That's the whole point of modifying a person's memories!"

Fred and George both sniffed and crossed their arms over their chests. "Yeah, well **obviously** we could get around it if we wanted to, but won't because we don't like him." they said sarcastically.

"We all said the same thing dad's been telling people at work." George went on. "We didn't see anything spectacular, and the only thing we know about where we were is that it was near London. But that story isn't good enough for him, so he goes and makes up all this crazy stuff to make himself feel better about being left out. I'm surprised he he isn't ranting about how we were tortured."

Fred immediately moved to shush his twin. "Don't say that too loud, mate." he told him. "Perce' will start getting ideas."

Harry looked amongst all of them carefully. "How'd he find out in the first place?" he asked.

Ron pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged on the seat. "He says he got a letter from his boss." he told him. "But Barty Crouch is the head of the Department for International Cooperation, so I don't know how he would have known unless Fudge told him to pass word along to Percy since he's family."

Fred nodded. "After he got the letter from Crouch he started 'asking around' to see what he could find out. Dad says people at the Ministry intermingle a lot during breaks and stuff, so he probably knows people in other departments. There's no telling what he heard."

If the Ministry was anything like any muggle business or government agency, there would probably be gossip spreading around. And, as with any kind of rumor, the stories got bigger and more convoluted the further down the line they got. Percy might have caught wind of something that was so removed from the truth that it could scarely be recognized as referring to the same event. Next to her, Hermione fidgeted nervously.

"He's not going to go around talking about it, is he?" she asked. "Surely he's smart enough to know better than that."

George shook his head. "No, it sounds like Crouch told him that it was 'Ministry business' and he needed to keep his mouth shut." his face twisted up like he had a bad smell in his nose. "Percy's stupid, but he's not **that** stupid. If his boss told him to keep quiet, he's not going to gossip about it."

Constance felt herself release a long breath of air. At least that was one thing they didn't have to worry about. She didn't much like the idea of yet another fight breaking out on account of this whole mess... but she supposed that there wasn't much that could be done about it. Ron huffed again and decided to switch topics to something else so they didn't fall into brooding over it.

"What was Neville over here for?" he questioned.

Harry told him that they had just been talking. However, he remembered the last thing the boy had said before leaving and said he still couldn't figure out why he would have a present at school. The twins and Ron hadn't been present for that conversation, so they encouraged him to go take a look. Everyone got up from their seats and went to the Christmas tree that was standing in the far left corner of the room. It was a bit odd for it to still be up, but the house elves usually didn't remove them until all the presents were gone. Underneath, wrapped in plain brown paper, was a long, rectangular box - nearly the same length as the the loveseats in the room. Harry carefully pulled it out and lifted it into his lap.

"It's **heavy**." he commented, then looked around at them. "Who do you suppose it sent it?"

Constance frowned. "Is there a tag or anything?"

"No..." Harry replied.

He tilted the box in every direction to look, but the only thing he could find was a small slip of parchment attached that bore his name. There was nothing indicating who the box was from.

"That's really strange..." Hermione said in a low voice. She stared at the box for a long time, her eyes narrowing. "I don't like it, Harry. We just had to deal with vampires trying to hunt you down, and now a mysterious present pops out of nowhere?"

"It doesn't make much sense for them to send something to school when they knew he wasn't here." Fred pointed out.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, and Dumbledore gave him the invisibility cloak for Christmas first year." he reminded them. "That didn't have a tag saying who it was from either."

Hermione shook her head. "That was different." she said. "Given the situation, I would think that if Dumbledore meant to give him something, he would have just brought it to Hellsing manor. Why would he leave it here for him to find **now** when he came to see us just before Christmas?"

"Why the devil would I know? This is Dumbledore we're talking about!" Ron said. He gave Harry an insistent nudge. "Go on, mate. Open it."

Constance found the situation questionable as well but if the gift itself had been spelled to do something, it would have reacted upon being touched. Harry was balancing it in his lap and had put his hands all over it, so it obviously wasn't going to do anything. The boy ripped the paper off and tossed it to the side. Underneath, the box was plain and white. No writing or designs on it at all. Harry gripped both ends to pull off the cardboard lid and see what was inside. Everyone went very still when the contents were revealed.

"That's..." Connie said, peering inside. "That's a broom."

To her, all broomsticks looked about the same, but all of the boys' eyes bulged and they started getting excited for some reason.

"A broom?" George repeated, gaping at her in astonishment. "A **broom**, Connie? That's not just any old broomstick! **That**." he pointed at the object laying in the box. "Is a Firebolt!"

"Um..." she said, blinking at him. "Okay, so it's a Firebolt. Is that supposed to mean something?"

Hermione took hold of her arm. "It's the fastest broom ever made." she told her. "And it's so expensive that stores that sell them don't advertise the cost. They only reveal the price to serious buyers who ask for it. This is the closest thing the wizarding world has to that sports car Mihnea got from his parents."

Ron looked impressed that Hermione actually knew something about brooms. He recovered from the moment of surprise to look back at Connie.

"That's an **international** standard broom, that is." he said. "All the professional Quiddich teams are using them now." he turned to Harry with a wide grin. "Just **wait** until Malfoy sees this! He'll be sick as a pig!"

_Oh._ Constance thought. Well, it was no wonder the boys were practically drooling over it. But it also made it's appearance that much more suspect. Albus Dumbledore loved Harry to death, but she couldn't imagine him buying the boy an insanely priced broomstick no matter how much he was affected by the loss of his old one. She and Hermione looked at each other, both thinking the exact same thing. This stank of a trap. When they saw Harry reaching into the box to pull it out, they both instinctively reacted.

"No!" the girls shouted. Hermione actually grabbed Harry's arm and jerked it back. "Don't touch it!"

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you two?" Ron demanded.

Harry was scowling at them as well for interfering in his enjoyment of the moment. He pulled his arm free from Hermione's grip with a huff. "What's the problem?" he demanded. "I've been wanting a new broom since my Nimbus 2000 got broken! This is perfect!"

"That's the problem. It's a little **too** perfect." Connie told him. "What if it's cursed?"

"Don't be stupid. Why would it be curs...?"

"Have you forgotten everything that's been happening lately?" Hermione demanded before he could finish. "Sirius Black is looking for you, Harry! He's boken into the castle trying to get into **your** dormitory. Those vampires that attacked us were aiming to capture **you**. Now, after that failed, a mysterious box shows up with no name on it containing the best broomstick in the world? Things like that don't randomly happen! If Black knew you weren't at school over the break, you don't think he could have found out about your broomstick being broken? The fastest, easiest way to kill you would be to curse something he knows you would love to have, then send it along knowing that you'll use it."

Harry blinked at her, realization slowly dawning in his eyes. He had gotten so caught up in the wonder and excitement of recieving something amazing that he forgot about the danger. He slowly drew his hands away from the box, but looked down at the broom with a pained expression.

"So what am I supposed to do then? Just leave it alone?" he asked, upset. "It's a **Firebolt**, Hermione!"

"A Firebolt that could kill you." the girl said firmly.

Constance cleared her throat meaningfully. "We should tell one of the teachers." she told him. "They can check it out for any spells that might have been put on it. Maybe there's nothing wrong with it and they can give it right back. But if there **is** some kind of spell or curse meant to hurt you, they'd be able to find it and remove it before it can do any damage." she gave him an understanding frown. "I know this is an amazing thing to get, but we've gone to a lot of trouble to keep you safe, Harry. You can't just throw that away. We have to be careful about this."

Harry was listening to her, but still didn't like the idea of giving up the broomstick. And Ron and the twins all looked stricken.

"But..." Ron began. "Do you know the sorts of things they do to check for curses? They cast a whole hoard of spells that strip off any magic that's there! If they do that, the broom might not be able to fly when they're through with it!"

"A broomstick can be replaced, Ronald." Hermione told him with a frown. "Harry **can't**."

"I'd like to see you replace a bleeding Firebolt." Fred muttered at her.

George, rather than joining in with their arguing on whether to turn it in or not, appeared to be carefully thinking it over. His eyes lit up with an idea and he sat up straighter.

"You always go on about how sorcery can do things that witchcraft cant." he said, looking at Constance. "And your dad and aunt fixed Hermione's wand when our magic wouldn't have been able to. Could it find a curse and take it off without messing up the spells that are supposed to be there?"

Connie faltered. She could sense where he was going with that, and she did **not** like it. "Well... yes, but..."

"There you go." Harry said resolutely. He took up the box by it's edges to put it down on the floor, then pushed it toward her. "Have a look at it and see if you find anything."

"Now wait a minute!" she protested. "I'm not an expert at this sort of thing!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open as well. "You're not seriously going to push this off on Connie, are you? What's wrong with you!"

"I'm not trying to push it off on her." Harry said firmly, giving her a hard glance. "I'm asking for her help." He turned back to Constance and lowered his voice, making it calmer and more imploring. "Please? This is something you'd know about, so just... do whatever you have to do."

Constance leaned back away from him. "Harry..." she said slowly. "I **really** think this is something a teacher should do. I'm just a..."

"You're a **Newsom** is what you are." George said pointedly. "Their magic is stronger than ours and you've grown up learning it. That's something none of the teachers here can say."

"Yeah." Fred piped up. "Your family is one of the best there is at sorcery! They wouldn't have been booted out of the magical world otherwise. Now does that mean something or not?"

"Of course it means something!" she said. "But this is ser..."

"**Please**, Connie." Harry said again. "I'm not asking for a miracle. I just want you to look. That's all."

She went still and looked around, taking in all of their expressions. They were intent and full of trust. And Harry... he had that sincere, pleading look in his eyes that was impossible to turn away from. This was **not** fair. Being outnumbered and having all of them begging her for something at once. Constance looked back at the Firebolt still in it's box. It was an amazing magical object. Something rare that anyone would jump at the chance to see up close - much less own. It was normal to be protective and not want to risk damaging it. She thought everything over carefully, then blew out a long stream of air.

"Okay, fine." she conceeded. She pointed a finger at Harry when she saw his eyes begin to light up. "But if there's one **tiny** little thing out of place, you're taking it to a teacher, do you understand?"

"Absolutely." He agreed, nodding quickly. He pulled her into a tight hug. "You're awesome, Connie!"

Constance wrinkled up her nose and pushed him off. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I haven't done anything yet."

Hermione wasn't the least bit happy with the arrangement. She folded her arms over her chest and huffed at them. "This is a horrible idea." she muttered.

"Don't be sore 'cause you didn't think of it." Ron chastized. He looked back at Connie. "What do you need?"

The girl sat back on her heels and thought about her options. The biggest issue was how to get the broomstick out of the box without touching it. Fred suggested that they use a levitation spell, but she shot the idea down. They weren't sure of what had been done to the broom, and casting a spell might cause a reaction. It was safer, in her opinion, to use the dragonhide gloves required for Potions. Dragon skin had a strong natural resistance to magic, so it would protect her from any curses that might be present. Connie quickly ran upstairs to fetch them from her trunk, then came back down.

"Okay." she said, pulling them on. "Everybody move back and give me some room. And someone keep an eye on the stairs."

The boys and Hermione all obligingly scooted back, forming a semi-circle on the floor in front of her. George, who was at the end closest to the stairs, turned himself so he'd be able to act as a look-out. Constance pulled the box in front of her and carefully lifted the broom up out of it, making sure not to let it touch anything. Harry then pulled the box out from under it so she could set the Firebolt down on the ground. With that out of the way, the girl pulled off her gloves and pushed herself up onto her knees so she could comfortably lean forward for the examination.

Finding and identifying magical signatures was a relatively simple proceedure. Anything that required an expenditure of energy left a sign behind. Powerful wizards and sorcerers who knew what they were doing could make it extremely difficult for someone else to find a magical 'trail', but it took a great deal of effort. In the magical world, very few people ever checked for things like that, so most thought that covering their tracks was a waste of time. Constance started at the front of the broom over the handle. She held out her hands, allowing them to hover a few inches above the wood, then closed her eyes. With her vision blocked out, she could better focus on the energy patterns. There was a definite 'sizzle' of magic there. A warm, inviting thrum marking the broom as being something other than ordinary. The magic itself felt very tame and orderly. A hallmark of witchcraft. She slowly drifted her hands down the broom's length, meticulously searching the entire space for anything that seemed out of place.

"This is so **weird**." Ron said quietly, apparently thinking she couldn't hear him. "Her hair is floating..."

"Shut up, Ronald." Hermione hissed at him.

Constance cracked an eye open to peer at them. "Do you mind? I'm trying to focus here."

The pair of them simpered down and apologized for interrupting. Connie closed her eye again and resumed her movements. Inching her hands across the space over the leather bound seat, then back over the bristles. She didn't feel anything dark or malicious. Not even neutral energy that could cause something annoying rather than harmful. There was just... flight and speed. The girl sat back and opened her eyes.

"Huh."

Harry studied her expectantly. "Well?"

Constance looked at him. "I don't feel anything out of place..." she admitted slowly.

She glanced back down at the Firebolt and frowned thoughtfully. If there was a curse present, it obviously wasn't strong enough to kill or seriously injure someone. She would be able to sense something with the potential of causing that level of damage. Confident that wasn't dangerous, she reached out and pressed a hand against the seat. Hermione sucked in a sharp breath when she saw what she was doing, but nothing happened. She didn't even feel a spike in the energy - which would have occured if there were a spell meant to attack. But that didn't mean everything was alright. It was possible that there was some kind of malicious curse tuned specifically to Harry. Though Constance was a naturally suspicious person, she had to admit that something of that nature was **extremely** unlikely. Still, the threat was big enough that it warranted a test.

"I need something of yours, Harry." she told him. "Something you've been wearing today that's picked up your energy. Your cloak, a glove, a sock... anything like that will work."

Harry gave her an odd look, but moved to do as she asked. He had taken off his cloak and gloves when they first entered the castle, but he'd been wearing the same pair of socks all day. The boy kicked off his left shoe and peeled the sock off of his foot. Everyone watched intently as Constance moved her hands back into their hovering position above the Firebolt. She then directed Harry to drop the sock on top of it. There was no reaction. Deciding to take it one step further, she then asked Harry to pull out a strand of his hair and drop that. Since it was an actual part of his body, a curse would definitely respond to that. But when the hair landed onto the broom's seat, again, nothing happened. Not a damn thing. Constance drew her hands back and slumped in confusion. This was **really** strange.

"So..." Fred prodded. "Does that mean it's safe?"

Connie pulled her eyes away from studying the broom like it was a two-headed snake. "Well, keeping in mind that I'm a teenager and I'm not an authority on this by **any** stretch of the imagination..."

"Oh come off it already!" Ron huffed at her. "Is there something wrong with it or not?"

The girl shot a glare in his direction, then sighed. "I can't sense anything wrong with it." she said, then quickly added a caveat. "But that doesn't mean nothing's there. It's... possible that I've missed something."

George was starting to get exasperated. "Okay, fine Miss Perfectionist." he said. "What are the **odds** that it's totally fine and doesn't have any wonky spells on it?"

Trust him to want to put it into gambling terms. Constance actually had to stop and think about that. Considering her training and practice in identifying magical signatures, the results of the tests they performed...

"Maybe... eighty to eighty-five percent?" she offered.

The boys looked at each other consideringly. "That's a passing grade." Harry commented. His mouth pulled into a wide smile. "It's good enough for me."

He then jumped up and grabbed the broom, pulling it closer to study it for the first time. The first thing they all starting yammering about was when they'd get to ride it. They had classes in the morning, but it wouldn't be too much trouble to skip lunch and take it out for a spin then. And Fred, George, and Ron all badgered him about having a go once Harry took it out for it's first flight. Hermione stared at them in astonishement.

"You're not **serious**, are you?" she demanded. "Even with the odds Connie came up with, that still leaves up to a twenty percent chance of that broom having some kind of dangerous magic on it!"

Fred made a face at her. "Come on, Granger. At those odds, we're more likely to fall off our brooms and be horribly injured playing Quiddich."

"Which happens **a lot**, if you haven't noticed!"

"Exactly." he rebutted. "It's more likely to happen, but you don't see that stopping anyone, do you?"

Hermione continued to protest, but the four boys stopped listening to her at that point. They were too caught up in debating what order they should ride the damn broomstick in. Harry also wanted to show off his new prize and ran upstairs - Fred, George, and Ron in tow - to the boys' dormitories to let everyone have a look. The moment they were gone, Hermione whirled around to give Constance a stern look of disapproval.

"You **could** have made them lower odds!"

Yes, she could have, but then it wouldn't have been honest. Connie glanced over at the stairs and sighed. "Hermione, I really don't think anything's wrong with the broom. The only reason I made them as low as I did is because the circumstances are so suspicious."

"That's the whole point!" she said. She thrust a finger back toward where the boys had disappeared. "The likelihood of that Firebolt showing up by chance is so low that's it's practically impossible! There has to be a reason why Harry got it!"

"What do you want me to do, Hermione?" Constance asked. "Lie and say there's something wrong with it when there's not? I'm pretty sure that if there was a curse on that broom meant to kill him, I would have felt it. I think it randomly showing up is **extremely** weird and I don't like it at all, but I did everything I knew to do and came up with nothing. I honestly don't know if a teacher would come up with a different result. Maybe..." she paused and coughed. "I'm not saying I think it came from Dumbledore, because I find that a little hard to believe, but maybe it **was** just a secret present from someone here."

Hermione stared at her for a long time. It was an outrageous notion that even Connie had trouble with, but... she couldn't come up with any other explanation. The timing was suspicious, the lack of a tag identifying the sender was worrisome, and... the Firebolt itself was perfect. Devoid of any sort of manipulation. It didn't make a bit of sense, but there it was.

Maybe fate had provided a little touch of serendipity to lighten the load Harry had been carrying lately.

* * *

><p>A.N: What's this? An update? And it <strong>hasn't <strong>been more than a month since the last one? Yeah guys, it shocked me too. O_o

In other news: Pottermore opens to the public in April! %&$*^%! ~passes out~

Reviews are beautiful, wonderful slices of happiness! Just like cookies. Or BROWNIES! Yum yum.


	55. Mending

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next morning, the whole Gryffindor table was abuzz with conversation about Harry's new broomstick. The members of the Quiddich team were ecstatic that their seeker now had the best equipment available, while the boys -and a fair amount of girls- all wanted to see and touch it for themselves. Constance was going over a few last minute notes with Neville in preparation for their first class of the day, but was paying attention to the goings on around her. It was too amusing to ignore. If Hermione hadn't stayed behind to put the finishing touches on an essay for Arithmancy, she had no doubt the girl would be telling them off.

"Could I have a go?" Seamus asked hopefully. He made a gesture of deference. "After you, of course."

Harry was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He was **so** damn proud of that Firebolt. And the requests were becoming so numerous that he had to turn most of them down.

"I already promised the three of them a ride." he told him, jerking a thumb toward Ron and the twins. "I don't know about letting anyone else ride it because the more people there are, the more likely something could happen to it."

Seamus looked a little put out that he wouldn't get a chance to take a test flight, but quickly shook it off. "Oh, no problem! That's fair." he gushed. "If I had a Firebolt, I wouldn't want too many people playing around with it either."

Ron laughed behind his hand and leaned over to speak quietly to Harry. "Maybe you should start a list?"

"Or charge per flight!" Fred piped up, hearing his brother's suggestion. "You'd make **loads**."

Lee Jordan leaned forward to look past George. He was wearing a wide, playful smile of his own. "Hey, you mind if I come have a look when the team starts practicing again? I want to make sure I'll be able to keep up with you during the games! You made my job hard enough zipping around on that Nimbus of yours."

Harry laughed at his enthusiasm. "I don't care." he said. "But don't think I'm going to slow down just so you'll be able to see what I'm doi..."

Connie noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and waved a hand at him to be quiet. Professor McGonagall had just entered the Great Hall from one of the side doors and was striding resolutely toward their table. She came to a halt directly in front of Harry.

"Mr Potter, you're to accompany me to your dormitory this instant." she announced.

Everything went still and the boy himself froze. "Um... what for, professor?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look. "I believe you know 'what for', Mr. Potter." she said pointedly. "I've just learned that you recieved a questionable gift last night. A Firebolt, if you want me to be specific. It's to be confiscated for a thorough examination."

"**Confiscated**?" he repeated, shocked. His face went ashen. "But there's nothing wrong with it!"

The woman didn't look impressed. "What makes you so sure of that? Can you verify where it came from or who the sender was?"

Harry hesitated. "Well... no, but..."

McGonagall held up a hand to stop him. "No 'buts' Mr. Potter. Unless you can give definitive proof of where it came from, the broom **will** be handed in for testing. Given the circumstances, I am very disappointed that I didn't hear about this from you." She frowned and made a beckoning gesture. "Now, come with me to your dormitory, if you please."

"Professor..." the boy said, making an attempt at another protest.

"**Now**, Mr. Potter."

The woman's voice left no room for argument and Harry flinched at the hardness of it. The jovial atmosphere dropped off and everyone stared at him in an uncomfortable, but sympathetic, silence. The boy wordlessly pushed himself up from the table to go with their head of house. The whispers started up the moment they were out of earshot.

"How'd she find out?" Ron demanded. He shot an accusing look at Constance. "Was it you?"

Connie sat back and gaped at him, offended by the insinuation. "No, it wasn't me!" she exclaimed.

"Then who the..." his words trailed off as he caught sight of something behind her. His face twisted up into a hateful scowl. "I **knew** it! I'm gonna kill her!"

The girl turned in her seat to see what on earth he was talking about. Back at the door McGonagall entered through, Hermione had poked her head in to peer inside. Constance then realized what must have happened. Hermione hadn't stayed behind to work on an essay at all. She had gone off to report the Firebolt when no one was around to try to talk her out of it. When Harry and McGonagall reached the door, she saw the boy give her a long, disbelieving look which quickly shifted to one of betrayal. Hermione tried to say something to him, but Harry ignored her attempt and coldly brushed past her. Her face fell and she looked back over. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she entered the room and walked over to the Gryffindor table. Judging from everyone's expressions, this was **not** going to be pretty.

"What the devil did you **do**, Hermione?" Ron said harshly when she sat down across from him.

The girl looked uncomfortable with all the hard looks coming at her from every direction, but she squared her shoulders and brushed it off. "I did the right thing." she replied. "What we **should** have done last night."

Ron looked like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle her. "We agreed not to turn it in last night, remember? You just had to run off and be all superior about it like always, didn't you?"

"Maybe you all agreed to that, but I certainly didn't." Hermione told him. "It isn't **safe**."

Fred and George decided to get involved in the argument. "The hell it's not." they said together. They leaned over and lowered their voices so the students sitting nearby wouldn't hear them, then pointed at Constance. "She checked it!"

"Yes, and Connie is a **teenage girl** who doesn't have the knowledge **or** the experience to make the sort of judgement call she did." the girl shot back, albeit in a lower tone of voice. She glanced at Connie sideways. "And you **shouldn't** have gotten their hopes up."

Constance bristled despite herself. Hermione was falling into that self-righteous attitude of hers, and the way that came out of her mouth was downright insulting.

"Excuse me?" she demanded. "Who are you to talk about what I do and don't know? I've had to make judgement calls a hell of a lot more serious than that before, and I wouldn't have said what I did if I didn't believe it!"

Hermione gave her a stern look of disapproval. "You said yourself that you weren't an expert and you could have missed something." she countered. "That broom needs to be looked at by an adult."

"All she said was that it was **possible** she missed something." George pointed out. "Anything is possible if you think about it long enough. That Firebolt will be useless once the teachers get through with it! At least we knew Connie's way wouldn't muck it up!"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "There's a difference between doing things the easy way and the right way."

"The **right** way?" Connie asked, getting more and more offended. Did she not realize how she sounded?

"She means **her** way." Ron stated with a sneer. He looked back at Hermione. "That's how it always has to be, isn't it? **Your** way. Because you know everything and the rest of us are stupid, right? This doesn't have a thing to do with you! That was **Harry's** broom, and he should get to decide what happens to it! But you didn't like that, so you had to go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You don't give a bowtruckle's rear end what the 'right thing' to do is. You're a bleeding two-faced snitch is what you are!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shock for a long time. Her gaze slowly turned cold.

"That's what you think, is it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, that's what I think!" Ron affirmed.

The girl glared him down silently, then shoved herself back from the table. Constance's indignance began to falter as she watched Hermione grab her things and turn on her heel to stomp off. Okay, so maybe she was offended at having her abilities questioned, but she knew deep down that she had only reported the broom out of concern for Harry's well-being. And no matter how angry or upset they were, Ron shouldn't have been so harsh with her.

"Hermione, wait!" she called out.

Either she was ignoring her, or had gotten far enough away that she couldn't hear. When calling for her didn't get a response, Constance jumped up from the table to run after her. She caught up to her before she got to the door and grabbed her arm.

"Please, stop!" she said.

Hermione whirled around to face her. "Is that what you think as well?" she asked in a rush of breath. "That I always have to have it my way? You **know **that's not what this is about! I thought after everything that's happened you would be worried about Harry too."

She was obviously angry about how the conversation had gone, but her eyes showed a gleam of hurt as well. Hermione never responded well to being called names.

"I **am** worried about Harry." Connie insisted. "And I don't agree with what Ron said to you. I understand why you did it."

Hermione pulled her arm free from her grip and stepped back away from her. "But you still couldn't say that in front of him, could you?" she said with a note of accusation.

"Well excuse me for being a little miffed at you acting like I was an ignorant fool for doing anything!"

"I never said tha...!"

"You didn't have to, Hermione." Constance interrupted with a resentful huff. "That's what it sounded like. I wasn't the only one who took it that way either. You don't have to agree with the things I do or the decisions I make, but don'tmake out like I'm stupid because I'm **not**."

Hermione stared at her for a long time, as if just realizing how her words had come across. Her expression sobered. "I didn't mean it that way. I just..." She blew out a long stream of air and rubbed at her temples. "I knew they would be upset with me. Maybe I should have told them what I was doing first. But we've been through too much already, and even the smallest chance of something being wrong is too much for me. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something awful happened and I knew I could have done something to stop it."

"I know." Constance said. She understood the sentiment perfectly. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to talk it over. Overhead, the bell was ringing to signal the start of classes. She glanced over her shoulder at the table, then turned back to her. "Everyone is stressed out right now, but we'll figure it out. They can't stay mad forever."

Hopefully the teachers would get through with their examination of the Firebolt quickly. She imagined they all would be on edge until Harry got it back in proper working order.

But it was the 'proper working order' bit she was worried about.

* * *

><p>As the day progressed, it became exceedingly clear how pissed the boys were about the situation. Harry and Ron steadfastly refused to sit anywhere near Hermione during classes. If she tried to speak to them, they would glare at her and turn their backs, or push past her and walk away as if she hadn't spoken at all. There wasn't much time to get a word in during classes themselves or in the hallways as they travelled between them, but Connie finally got a chance during History of Magic. Professor Binns lectured in his droll, monotone voice whether people were paying attention to him or not. He was known for giving lessons to empty rooms, so he wouldn't notice a group of students talking about something else in the back of the room.<p>

"You two are being right stupid about this." she whispered pointedly once she had scooted close enough for them to hear. She looked specifically at Harry. "She only did it because she's worried about you."

The boy gave her a look. "I don't care why she did it." he said in a hard voice.

"You should." she told him. "Her heart was in the right place."

"Yeah, and where her heart was will mean **a lot** when I get a useless broom back." he snapped.

Ron was sitting on the other side of Harry, so he had to lean forward a bit to speak to her. "I suppose you agree with what she did, since you're defending her?" he challenged.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Ron." she said with a frown. "The only reason Ididn't push you guys into telling a teacher is because I didn't find anything. I'm not the least bit happy about her going behind my back like what I did doesn't matter, but I still know her well enough to tell that she was only trying to help."

"Maybe she should stop trying to 'help' then." Harry muttered. "I didn't ask for it or want it, so she should have left well enough alone."

Constance decided then that it was probably best to stop talking to them about it. They were too angry to see reason. But she continued to fret for the rest of the day. She didn't like her friends fighting amongst themselves over something as trivial as a damn broom (even if it was an expensive one) and she wouldn't rest until she found a way to fix it.

When the time for Potions came around, she was still thinking deeply about the matter. Mihnea noticed her odd demeanor, so once they got started with the class assignment, he questioned her about it. Their conversation was broken into pieces due to having to drop into studious silence whenever Snape came around to their section of the room, but she explained as much as she could. Her cousin drank in all the information and hummed thoughtfully.

"I'm not surprised Potter's mad at her." he commented as he diced up gurdyroots into neat, tiny pieces. "I'd be pissed as hell too. Maybe this will teach Granger a lesson in not stabbing people in the back."

The girl would readily admit she found her friend's actions to be a little underhanded, but saying that it was a stab in the back was going a bit too far. Connie gave him a look. "Like you haven't done the exact same thing before?"

His knife paused mid-slice and green eyes glanced up from their work to peer at her meaningfully. He knew full well she was referring to the time he'd reported them to the teachers for going out in search of the Philosopher's Stone first year.

"That was different." he said.

"How?" she challenged.

"Because you were involved and I wasn't." he said simply. He looked down his nose at her in an almost chiding fashion, then went back to his work. "Not to say I don't trust you, but if Potter gets any other mysterious objects that need to be checked for curses, you should probably let me help out." he offered with a shrug. "If anything, I could make sure Granger doesn't cause problems later on."

Constance tried to imagine how that would have gone over. "The boys kind of blindsided me, so I honestly didn't think of asking you to help." she admitted. "It's probably better that I didn't, because I would hate to have to come up with an explanation for how you can get into the Gryffindor common room."

Mihnea arched a brow at her. "I would think we've gone **way** past the point of having to 'explain' little details like that to your friends." he said. "They should be able to figure out all the hows and whys on their own."

The girl opened her mouth to counter, but stopped herself. He had a point. Keeping secrets for so long had affected her thinking process and she was still getting used to this new idea of not having to explain away every odd thing that came up. Her cousin rolled his eyes at her and shook his head.

"Here." he said, pushing a couple of unsliced roots toward her. "You work on cutting those up. They're on the juicy side."

Connie obligingly set aside the mortar and pestle she was working with to pull the gurdyroots in front of her, but gave him an odd look. "Juicy?" she repeated.

Mihnea caught her questioning expression and pointedly shifted his eyes toward Snape, who was making his rounds at the back of the room. "I'm trying to avoid rolling up my sleeves." he told her.

_Ah... _she thought. He didn't want the Potions Master catching a glimpse of his scars. She wasn't sure how aware Snape was of Mihnea's physical state, but if the man knew he didn't have marks on his arm before leaving school and saw he had returned with a new set of perfectly healed scars, it would rouse suspicion. Ordinary people didn't heal **that** fast.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

Constance shook herself out of her thoughts and blinked at her cousin's question. "About the Firebolt?" she asked, wondering if that was what he meant. "I can't imagine why he wouldn't. McGonagall would have told him."

Mihnea shook his head. "No, does he know about you checking it out?" he clarified.

"Oh." she replied. "No, of course not. I did it late last night, so I haven't had a chance to tell him anything." she sat back to study him intently. "Why?"

Mihnea lifted his shoulders slightly. "You're worried about the teachers removing the magic that's supposed to be there, right? It seems to me that if Dumbledore knew the Firebolt had already been examined and nothing was found, he **might** pull some strings to keep the more damaging tests from being performed."

Constance stared at him. Why on earth hadn't she thought of that? Her face lit up with approval. "Mihnea, that's brilliant!"

He smirked. "I know."

She reached out to give him a small shove in the shoulder. "You don't have to be cocky about it."

"I wasn't trying to be cocky." he asserted calmly. "I was just agreeing with you."

_Uh huh._ His self-assured, confident manner wasn't doing much to back up his claim. She made a face at him, then thought of something.

"I've never had to go to Dumbledore's office for something before." she commented. "According to Harry you need a password to get in, so am I supposed to make an appointment or something?"

"I guess so." Mihnea replied. "I've never been either so I'm not sure how that works. But I imagine if you told McGonagall you wanted to see him, she'd pass the word along."

That would make sense, considering that a person's Head of House was the first step in the chain of command. She wasn't quite sure what excuse she would give, but she resolved to speak to Professor McGonagall about it at the first available opportunity.

* * *

><p>Her chance came at the end of Transfiguration class that afternoon. Constance stayed behind as the other students made their way out and asked Professor McGonagall if there was any way she could meet with the Headmaster. The older woman pointedly asked her for a reason, but Connie just said it was a 'personal matter of great importance' that she would feel more comfortable discussing with Dumbledore himself. That was bound to get the man's attention. After a long stent of questioning, McGonagall finally relented and told her she would speak to him, but made no promises of when she'd actually be able to see him. For as busy as the Headmaster was made out to be, he didn't appear to have any grand plans that particular day. Constance got a response back within a few hours. McGonagall tracked her down as she was leaving her last class of the day and told her that Professor Dumbledore would see her immediately. The woman led her through the maze of corridors to the statue that marked the entrance to his office. McGonagall spoke the password (which was <em>licorice snaps<em>, much to Connie's amusement) then left her to ascend the newly revealed staircase alone.

Professor Dumbledore's office was a massive room filled with all sorts of interesting objects and trinkets. Despite the size and collection of odd things, it had a homey sort of air to it. Warm, welcoming, and a teensy bit eccentric in a likable way, as if the room was an extension of the man himself.

"Ah, Miss Stryker." Dumbledore's voice rang out. "I've been expecting you. Do come in."

Connie peered around and caught sight of him standing next to a large, richly carved oak desk. His phoenix, Fawkes, was perched on a stand jutting out from the wall on his left. She greeted him respectfully and he smiled and gestured for her to sit in one of the large, overstuffed chairs in front of the desk before walking behind it to take a seat himself.

"Thank you for seeing me, sir." she told him. "I know you must be busy."

"Not so busy that a few things can't be set aside for a while." he replied with a nod of acknowledgement. He clasped his hands in front of him. "I was informed by Professor McGonagall that you wished to talk to me about something personal you didn't feel comfortable discussing with her. In light of recent developments, I assume this 'personal matter' is, in fact, the Firebolt Harry recieved last night." he lowered his head to shoot a meaningful look at her over the top of his spectacles. "Am I correct, Miss Hellsing?"

Constance wasn't the least bit surprised he had figured out what she had come for. Dumbledore was an incredibly wise man who knew damn near everything. The sound of the name she only used when at home made her feel more secure in talking about such a sensitive subject.

"Yes, sir." she said. She took a moment to think over the best way to express what she had to say, then began. "I wanted to tell you that I examined that broom for any traces of malicious or out of place magic the moment Harry opened it. I don't know if that will have an effect on any plans you have for it, but I... thought it was something to take into account."

The man held up a hand. "There's no need to explain." he told her kindly. "I anticipated that you would have looked into the matter yourself, so I'm not surprised." His blue eyes twinkled at her and he gestured to a bowl of candy sitting on the corner of his desk. "Have a lemon drop. Perhaps it is only an odd quirk of mine, but I find serious conversations are made more palatable when taken with a dose of something sweet."

It was an odd offer, but the girl couldn't think of any good reason to turn it down. She reached out and took a lemon drop from the bowl and popped it into her mouth. It was **a lot** more sour than she expected and her face immediately drew up at the sensation. It was so strong that it actually sent her into a coughing fit. Dumbledore chuckled as he took one of the sweets for himself.

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention that this particular muggle brand is rather well known for having a bite." he told her with a wink. He put the candy in his mouth and winced violently just as she had. He gave his head a firm shake, blinking at the sourness. Constance was fairly sure she could see the gleam of tears in the corners of his eyes. "If **that** doesn't make one alert and ready for anything, nothing ever will." he proclaimed.

She couldn't help but laugh. It was true. Eating one of those sweets felt similar to being smacked in the face with a brick (albeit with most of the pain removed). The Headmaster swallowed down the first lemon drop and allowed himself a moment to recover before taking another.

"Now then, I assume that since Miss Granger was the one to report the Firebolt rather than yourself, your examination revealed nothing of consequence?" he asked her.

Connie sat up straighter in her chair. "No sir, it didn't." she affirmed.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Can you give me a full recounting of what you did? Be as detailed as possible, if you would please."

The girl nodded and commenced explaining everything she had done the night before. It wound up taking a good deal of time because she described everything in the most vivid detail she could muster - knowing that the more she could tell him, the more accurate a picture he got. Dumbledore gave her his full attention and listened intently to her words, nodding and asking questions at various points. When she finished, she sat back more comfortably in her seat and sighed.

"I realize it's probably odd that Hermione was the one to report it and not me." she admitted. "But I did everything I knew to do and I couldn't find a single thing out of place. The reason I agreed to look at the Firebolt to begin with was because Harry was worried that if he turned it in to a teacher, they would strip away all of it's magic and leave it ruined. I told him it was possible I missed something and I still think the way it showed up like that is strange..." she shook her head. "But I swear upon my immortal soul that if I thought there was **any** legitimate chance of that broom being dangerous, I wouldn't have let Harry touch it, much less keep it."

"I believe you, Constance." the Headmaster said reassuringly. "I've seen that you are very loyal and protective of the people you care for, and I can't imagine you needlessly putting a friend in harm's way. I also know that you have recieved a great deal of... let's say 'specialty training' from your family, which give your results significant weight." he paused and held out his arms in an open gesture. "The quandry lies in the fact that I am not the only one who needs to be convinced. I have the concerns of the other teachers to consider, and I'm afraid the opinion of a fourteen year old witch will do little to ease their fears. I'm sure you realize that providing an explanation for **why** they should take you at your word would put all of us into a situation I don't believe we're prepared to handle just yet."

Constance was touched that he so readily believed her and accepted her results, but she wasn't stupid. She had thought the issue of the other staff members would come up evenutally. She slowly inclined her head. "I understand, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, giving her a sympathetic look, then tapped his chin thoughtfully. "However..." he began, drawing the word out. "It would be a shame to risk damaging such an extraordinary piece of equipment if there's truly nothing wrong with it. Professor McGonagall won't be satisfied unless she performs a few tests of her own, but I don't believe she would argue with me taking over the more 'sensitive' examinations." he gave her that meaningful, twinkle-eyed look of his. "I can assure you that the Firebolt will be **far** from ruined when it's returned."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing the man say those words out loud took the weight of worry off her shoulders. She thanked him sincerely and asked if she could report that to Harry. Dumbledore just smiled and told her that of course she could. He had caught wind of some conflict going on between the boys and Hermione, so learning that the Firebolt wouldn't be destroyed or rendered useless might help to ease the tension between them. With her mission completed, Constance was free to leave and go about her business. But as she was gathering up her bookbag from the floor, she thought of something else she wanted to ask him, but hadn't had an opportunity before now.

"May I ask you a question, Professor?" she asked him.

The Headmaster sat back and waved a hand in offering. "Certainly." he replied.

Connie cleared her throat carefully. "On Halloween night, after Sirius Black broke into the castle, I overheard you talking to Professor Snape." she said. "You told him that you had seen to it that Harry was well protected beyond what he could imagine. I hadn't thought about it before, but I can't help but wonder... were you... talking about Mihnea and I being here?"

Dumbledore didn't look upset or surprised by the question. He simply studied her with a calm, yet curious expression. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I just thought it would make sense." she replied. "Unless there's a vast difference in character, it's usually easy to tell what a house a person will be sorted into by looking at their family. It wouldn't have been hard to figure out that Mihnea would be a Slytherin and I would be a Gryffindor. Those were the two houses the sorting hat considered putting Harry into, so no matter where he ended up, one of us would have been house mates with him. If anything unusual began happening around Harry, we would have been in the middle of it whether we were friends with him or not because neither of us is the sort to say no to an adventure. Our presence would give Hellsing a legitimate excuse to get involved if things became dangerous. And it's an interesting **coincidence** that you decided to overlook the exile of the Newsom family and allow my cousin and I to attend school knowing that I would be in the same year as him and Mihnea would only be two years ahead."

She kept her tone neutral and conversational as she spoke. Connie wasn't angry about anything and she wasn't attempting to level an accusation at him. This was something she had pretty much figured out and accepted a long while ago, and was simply looking for a confirmation that she was right. Again, the man didn't look upset, but he exhibited no signs of denial either. Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly.

"It seems you've put too much thought into it for me to say anything to the contrary." he told her with a note of approval in his voice. "I will admit there were numerous factors I took into account before sending off Mr. Bassarab's acceptance letter, but there have also been a great number of things I didn't anticipate. The friendships Harry has forged with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been just as valuable as the one he has with you. By the same token, your relationship with George Weasley proved instrumental in placing you at the Burrow at a time when it would have been disastrous for everyone had you not been there. Those are things I never could have planned for." his expression shifted and he looked at her with absolute sincerity. "But I still stand behind what I said during my first meeting with your family. I believe you and Mr. Bassarab have as much of a right to an education and interaction with others your age who share your talents as anyone else. A person's family history or upbringing should never interfere with that. I may not have had enough influence or good enough reasons for extending the same offer to your father or your aunt - which I **deeply** regret, because I feel they would have excelled here - but Mr. Potter's reappearance in the magical world has opened many doors which otherwise would have remained closed. There are many deep wounds, ancient wounds, inflicted by the actions of wizards in the past. Wounds that continue to be inflicted to this very day. Not just on you, or your cousin and the rest of your family, but on anyone who falls outside the realms of what is accepted. My hope - or indeed, you may call it my prayer - is that my actions and decisions might help provide some form of healing." he paused again to take yet another lemon drop. "The mending of old wounds always provides benefits to others. In this case, yes, Harry will benefit greatly, but I never intended for him to be the only one."

Perhaps, to someone else, that kind of admission would be disturbing. A manipulation of sorts. But really, wasn't that the sort of thing everyone did in their own way? Dumbledore had only taken steps to ensure that people of value would be in Harry's life. The way they came to see and interact with each other was due to the touch of chance. Or fate, maybe.

And Dumbledore was indeed correct. In Connie's eyes, Harry definitely wasn't the only one benefiting from the arangement.

* * *

><p>She left the Headmaster's office in time to make to the Great Hall for supper, though it was nearing the tail end of it. The boys and Hermione still weren't on speaking terms, and the girl herself had left shortly before Connie's arrival to resume work on her legal defense for Buckbeak. The trial was fast approaching, and she was determined that Hagrid be prepared for anything that might come up. Harry wasn't there either - having gone off to meet with Professor Lupin for his first private lesson in conjuring a patronus. Fred and George were in the middle of a raging debate with Lee about something or other, so Ron was really the only one around she got to speak to. He questioned her about her sudden disappearace and she admitted that she had gone to see Dumbledore. That caused the boy to perk up with newfound interest, but she refused to tell him anything. Constance wanted Harry to be present when she revealed what she had found out.<p>

The boy wound up returning to the common room a few hours later. His eyes were tired looking, showing the strain of working with magic far beyond a normal level for his age. Ron and Constance set aside the homework they were working on together and gestured for him to come over.

"Hey, mate." Ron greeted once Harry dropped down in the chair across from them. "How'd it go?"

Harry shrugged. "It was fine. Can't say I got much done, but it was interesting." he shook his head and looked at Connie. "You ran off pretty fast after class. What did Professor McGonagall want with you?"

Before she could open her mouth to respond, Ron shoved a finger in her direction. "**She** had a meeting with Dumbledore." he proclaimed. "And wouldn't say a bleeding thing about it until you were here."

Harry's eyes lit up. "**Really**? Was it about the Firebolt? What'd he say?"

God, he was already getting anxious and she hadn't said anything yet. Constance held up her hands to get him to calm down. "Yes, it was about the broom." she told him. "I have some great news, some not so good news, and some news that you're probably not going to like. Which would you prefer to hear first?"

The two boys looked at each other. "Give me the great news first." Harry decided. "I've had enough bad news for one day, so that can wait."

She figured as much. Connie clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. "Okay, the **great** news is that I told Dumbledore about me checking out the broom last night. I explained everything, and he agreed that if I didn't find anything, then it was probably fine. He said he would take over the more probing examinations himself and that when you got the broom back, it would definately be able to fly and do everything it's supposed to."

Harry's posture immediately righted and he gave her a wide, exhuberant grin. "That's awesome!" he exclaimed, looking like he wanted to jump up and do a happy dance. "You're amazing, Connie!" he leaned forward to give her a tight hug in thanks, but went still and pulled back. "Wait, so what's the bad news?"

Constance shook her head. "I never said I had **bad** news." she corrected. "Just 'not so good' news and news that you probably weren't going to like." She gave him a look and waited for him to sit back down. "The part that's not so good is that Dumbledore has to let the teachers do some kind of testing on the broom so they'll be satisfied that it's safe. He's going to make sure no one does anything that will mess up the magic that supposed to be there, but he couldn't tell me how long it would take."

"Meaning we have no idea when Harry gets the Firebolt back." Ron rephrased with a frown.

"That's right." she confirmed.

Harry's jubilant expression went down several notches and he huffed unhappily. Connie heard him swear faintly under his breath. "I suppose as long as I get it back in one piece, I can't complain too much." he said at last. "I just want to make sure it works."

"It **will** work, Harry." she told him, then sucked in a deep breath in preparation for the inevitable. "Now for the part you probably aren't going to like, but it needs to be done. I want you, and **you**," she said, turning to look at Ron. "To apologize to Hermione for making arses of yourselves."

"**Apologize**?" Ron demanded. "What the bloody hell for? This whole mess is her fault!"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a scowl. "No one would have taken my broom away in the first place if she hadn't snitched about it."

Connie had heard enough of their stupidity and wasn't going to put up with it anymore. "Will you two stop and listen to yourselves?" she exclaimed. "We're talking about a **broomstick** here! Okay, so it's an expensive, amazing, professional grade broom that not many people have, but it's still just a broom. It showed up under incredibly strange circumstances, and if you hadn't roped me into looking at it, I would have reported it myself." She took a breath and sighed. "Maybe she didn't do it in the best way, but... Hermione's just lost the two people she loved most in the world. Can you really fault her for not wanting to risk losing someone else?"

Apparently Harry and Ron hadn't thought about it that way because they both immediately simpered down and grew quiet. Harry coughed and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

"When you put it **that** way, maybe I... overreacted a little." he muttered.

The girl arched a brow at him. "I'd say it was a bit more than 'a little'." she said with a sniff. She noticed that Ron still had that upset look on his face and poked him in the ribs. "Well?" she prodded.

He huffed at her. "Well, what?"

Constance narrowed her eyes warningly. "I **will** hurt you, Ronald Weasley."

For a moment the threat had no effect, but when she raised her hand in preparation to give him a solid smack on the back of the head, Ron quickly ducked and scooted several inches away from her.

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed. "I'll apologize! Merlin, a bloke can't even be a little miffed without you going mental about it!"

Harry's lips pressed together like he was trying not to show how amusing he found the scene. Connie was satisfied that they would talk to Hermione whenever she got back. But the girl did have a habit of losing track of time when she was working on something intently, so there was no way to tell when that would be. In the meantime, their conversation turned to other matters.

"So what does Lupin have you doing then?" Ron asked Harry. "Did he just teach you the spell and have you practice or something?"

The boy shook his head in response. "It was a bit more complicated than that, actually." he said. "Do you remember that boggart he showed us in class?" he waited for them both to nod, then went on. "He still has it locked up in a trunk. He taught me the patronus charm and once he thought I had the pronunciation down, he opened the trunk and let it out to give me something to aim at. Lupin said a real dementor would be worse, but..." he shivered in remembrance. "That boggart was still pretty bad."

Constance frowned. "You passed out again, didn't you?" she asked gently.

Harry obviously didn't like the idea of the dementors affecting him so strongly, but he slowly nodded. "The first time, I did." he confirmed. "I managed to conjure up this... odd looking white mist the second time I tried, so I guess that's something." he shrugged. "Lupin said a properly formed patronus takes the form of an animal - but you have to be thinking of a powerful, happy memory to do it. It's just hard to think of things like that when you've got a dementor towering over you."

She could imagine. But the patronus charm was supposed to be advanced magic, so the fact that he was able to produce something on the second attempt was impressive. Even that mist he spoke of could be used as a shield.

"It sounds like you made progress though." she pointed out.

Harry nodded with a small, proud looking smile. "Yeah, I wasn't expecting it to work, and Lupin was **really** happy about it. We stopped after the second round." his face shifted into a sheepish expression. "He snuck in a butterbeer to let me try it, and I sort of felt bad about having to make out like I'd never had one before."

Ron's mouth fell open. "Lucky sot!" he exclaimed, then began muttering about how they'd have to wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend to get some - which wouldn't be for another couple of weeks.

"Sorry." Harry told him. "It's not like I asked him for it." the boy then paused thoughtfully, as if remembering something he found curious. "Hey, Connie, you're good at Potions. Could you tell what something is by looking?"

Constance blinked at him in surprise. What sort of odd question was that? "It depends." she replied. "If a potion has a distinctive color and texture, you **might** be able to identify it by sight. But there are dozens of potions out there that look similiar, so it's better to rely on a combination of appearance and smell." she sat back a bit to peer at him. "Why?"

"Well..." the boy began hestitantly. He looked around the room for a moment, then shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward, gesturing for them to scoot closer as well. "Maybe it's nothing, but while I was with Professor Lupin, Snape came in and gave him this weird looking potion I'd never seen before. It was this... sick looking green color and it smelled like rotten eggs and cabbage that had been left in a dumpster for a week."

"Ugh!" Ron said, wincing like he had a foul taste in his mouth. "That sounds **nasty**. Lupin didn't drink it, did he? If the greasy git tried to give me something, I wouldn't dare put it in my mouth."

"Yeah, he drank it." Harry reported. It looked like he found the thought nauseating as well. "I tried asking, but they both said it was medicine."

"Right..." Ron said. It was clear from his tone he didn't believe a word of it. "**Medicine**. Snape hates Lupin, so for all we know he could have been giving him poison!"

Constance huffed at the idea and rolled her eyes. The concoction Harry described sounded like the wolfsbane potion - which she knew Snape had been tasked with brewing to help ease Professor Lupin's transformations. But even if she couldn't reveal what it was, she wasn't about to let them sit there and come up with wild stories about Snape trying to kill the man.

"Please, Ron." she said. "I couldn't tell you what that potion was, but I'm sure Snape wasn't trying to poison him."

"If you can't tell what it was, then how do you know?" Harry challenged.

"Because it isn't logical, Harry." she replied firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the pair of them a look. "Most poisons are clear and are designed have a pleasant taste or no taste at all. If you wanted to poison someone, the stupidest thing in the world would be to give them something that looks or tastes bad because it increases the chances of them spitting it right back out. And Snape is the **Potions** Master, so** if **someone - especially a teacher he doesn't get on well with - wound up dead from drinking a **potion**, it could quickly be traced back to him. Think whatever you want about the man, but he's not an idiot."

Harry studied her as he turned over all the information she'd just given him. "Okay, fine." he conceded. "But if Lupin is sick, why doesn't he just get medicine from Madam Pomfrey? She's the medi-witch here."

That was a question that probed a little too deeply for her tastes. Constance hesistated and tried to come up with something appropriate that would satisfy their curiosity without giving too much away.

"Maybe... maybe Lupin has some sort of condition that requires special potions that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have on hand or doesn't have the training to make." she offered.

Both boys sat back, their brows furrowed with thought. "Huh." Ron said. "That would make sense..." he stopped and shook his head. "That's awful, that is. You don't think Lupin has something bad wrong with him, do you? He's one of the best teachers we've ever had!"

Harry frowned. "Don't know." he replied. "I hope not. But he does miss class a lot and he always looks terrible after..."

"Yeah, and he's way too thin." Ron added with an unhappy nod. "Whatever it is has to be rough if it makes him look like the life's been sucked out of him like that."

There was a moment of silence where they just sat and looked at each other. From the way they were talking, it sounded like the boys were pondering over whether Lupin might have a terrible, life threatening illness or something. Perhaps it was normal to wonder, but they didn't need to dwell on it. They had no idea how close they were getting.

"Well, no matter what it is, I'm sure Lupin wouldn't appreciate anyone pointing it out." Constance said resolutely, growing uncomfortable with the subject. "He's obviously managing it the best he can."

Harry and Ron were only concerned about what was going on with the man they had a great deal of respect for, but they both agreed to leave it alone. Constance was beginning to feel better about how they would take the news that their favorite teacher was a werewolf, but she still didn't want to be the one to bring it out in the open.


	56. Catching the Scent p1

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"I can't **believe** you two bring those things to school."

Mihnea paused in loading his gun and shot a sideways look at Hermione. One of his brows went up.

"What, Granger, are you going to turn us in?" he challenged.

Hermione gaped at him open mouthed for a moment, then pressed her lips together in a firm line. More than two weeks had passed since she reported Harry's broom, but she was still sensitive about people inferring that she was a tattletale. The girl glared pointedly at him to show how little she appreciated the comment, then went back to pouring through her notes for Ancient Runes. Constance made a face at her cousin and gave him a backhanded smack to the shoulder.

"That wasn't necessary." she told him quietly.

"What?" he said. "Just because you pussyfoot around to keep everyone happy doesn't mean that I have to."

Connie gave him a hard look. "Don't be an ass."

He just shrugged in response and turned his attention back to sliding the clip into his weapon. There was no word yet on how much progress the teachers had made with the Firebolt and Harry, understandably, was getting antsy. The first Quiddich match of the new year was fast approaching and the boy was worried to the point of distraction about getting it back in time to use it. Since brooding would only make everyone more anxious, they tried to find entertaining ways to pass the time. Constance had gotten a letter from Mihnea about meeting up for target practice after classes on Friday and because she didn't see the point in hiding what she was doing any longer, she filled her friends in on her plans. They all were interested and asked if they could come along to watch. Mihnea had been mildly irritated at the thought of having an audience around, but eventually gave up arguing and agreed. So Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins met up with Connie and Mihnea on Friday afternoon and they inconspicuously made their way out to the Forbidden Forest to get set up. Of everyone, Hermione was the most nervous about it, but Connie pointed out that with them being such a large group, there really wasn't much to worry about.

When Fred called out to them, she glanced up from Persephone to pinpoint his position. He had volunteered to tack their target onto a tree and she wanted to make sure he put it a far enough distance away. She waved a hand at him.

"Further back!"

Fred walked backwards until he came upon a tree that was roughly a hundred meters away. Constance gave him the thumbs up sign and he put up the target before jogging back to join them.

"Okay, so do we need to cast a muffling charm or something?" he asked, looking specifically at the gun in Connie's lap. "That thing was **really** loud when you used it at our house."

"Nope." Mihnea replied before she had a chance to say anything. "That's what the silencers are for."

Ron looked confused. "What's a silencer?"

Constance held up Persephone to show him what they were talking about. "This." she said, pointing at it. "When it's screwed onto the end of the barrel it supresses the noise. The only reason it wasn't attached at the Burrow is because I had just cleaned my gun a few days before and I didn't think I would need it for anything."

They all seemed to accept her answer at face value. The girl was thankful no one asked any complicated questions about how the weapons worked. While she was comfortable using them, she didn't know enough about firearm design and engineering to explain all the fine details of their working mechanics. That was a task for her dad or aunt Syn. But then, they had spent a good deal of time with those two at the manor, so it was entirely possible they had already questioned them about it.

Once she and Mihnea were loaded up and had their silencers screwed into position, they instructed the others to stand back out of the way while they took turns shooting at the target. Connie had to begrudgingly agree that her new glasses had a positive effect on her aim. She could see the lines on the parchment so much clearer and her shots were more accurate than they had been in the past. Maybe there was something to these things after all. During the pauses between shots, she noticed that Hermione was paying just as much attention to the goings on as the others were. Oh, she continued to make out like she was more focused on her studying, of course, but the girl still shot long gazes in their direction out of the corner of her eye. Constance wondered if Hermione was attempting to keep a low profile to avoid further conflicts with Harry and Ron, or if she was just irritated at the idea of Mihnea siding with the boys instead of her.

When the two of them finished emptying out their clips, the boys all wore similar expectant looks on their faces. Like they wanted to have a go for themselves, but weren't sure if they were allowed to and didn't know if they should ask. Finally, the question that was clearly pouring through all of their minds came from an unexpected source.

Ginny cleared her throat and pushed herself away from the tree she had been propped up against. "Could I try?"

Connie and Mihnea both paused in surprise and looked at each other. They had been expecting one of the guys to request a chance to shoot, but not Ginny. Constance herself never would have thought the younger girl would be the **first** to ask.

"Sure!" she replied, turning back to her. "That's not a problem."

The twins both looked taken aback. "Hey, you mean it's okay for us to try one of those things out?" Fred asked.

"Syn made out like the firelegs she makes are alive and don't like being used by people they don't belong to." George added.

Constance rolled her eyes at the sound of his mistake. "It's 'firearms', George." she corrected. "And they usually are like that but Persephone is very laid back. This is just a practice session, so I'm sure she won't mind."

"Huh." Harry said. He still found the whole notion of referring to guns as living things strange, but otherwise appeared thoughtful. He glanced at Mihnea. "What about yours, then?"

Her cousin made a face and held up a hand, palm outward. "Don't go there, Potter. None of you would be able to handle my gun."

Fred scoffed like he found that a bit offensive. "What's the big deal? They can't be that different."

Mihnea quirked a brow. "I think you're forgetting something important." he said, then pointed at himself. "I'm not human."

Hermione suddenly decided to drop the pretense of studying she was putting on and set her textbook and notes aside to get involved in the conversation.

"You're **half** human." she pointed out.

Mihnea shot a passive, sideways glance at her. "I never said I wasn't. Being half human isn't the same as being a full one."

"All the same, it's still a part of who you are, so you can't pretend it's not there."

Constance watched as her cousin noticeably paused and gave the girl a long, confused look. "What the hell does **that **have to do with anything?" he demanded in bewilderment. "I'm trying to explain why my gun can't be used by an ordinary person and you have to butt in and turn it into a philosphical debate that has nothing to do with my point. If you want to engage in a rhetorical battle of wits, that's fine, but you'd best find someone else to challenge because I would chew your ass up and hand it back to you. If you have nothing valid or **relevant** to say, then I suggest you keep your mouth shut and stick your pretty little nose back in those books of yours."

Mihnea didn't sound truly angry - just irritated at having the subject derailed along a tangent. Hermione gaped at him in surprise for a long moment before her ears turned red with embarrassment and her mouth snapped shut. Ron looked back and forth between the two of them, then nudged Harry in the ribs.

"I have no idea what he just said, but it sounds like they speak the same language." he whispered.

Harry silently nodded in agreement while Mihnea huffed and turned back to Fred to finish his explanation.

"Venom is a high caliber combat pistol that's heavier and more powerful than Connie's." he told him. "It's not something a novice should start out with. It's designed to be a left-handed weapon so it would be too cumbersome for any of you to use, and my mom just modified it to fire custom built 454. Casull rounds. I'm still getting used to the difference in recoil myself. If you don't hold it exactly right, there's a real possibility that the force of the shot could break the bones in your hand. This gun wasn't meant to be used by ordinary humans." he paused and shrugged. "Sorry, but that's just the way it is."

Fred and George blinked at each other. "Okie dokie... Connie's it is, then."

Constance rolled her eyes at their blase response. "Well, if you guys want to try as well, you'll have to wait your turn. Ginny asked first." She gave the younger girl a warm smile. "I have to reload anyway, so you can watch while I go over what you need to know."

Ginny's head bobbed with interest and she followed her over to the tree where the bag containing their ammo was located. The boys and Hermione gathered around as well - wanting to partake of the brief lesson so they'd be prepared when their turn came. Meanwhile, Mihnea thought a hundred meters was too far a target for a beginner, so he drew out a set of concentric circles on a new piece of parchment and ran down to tack it to a tree less than twenty meters away. An absurdly easy target for the two of them, but it would provide enough of a challenge for someone who had never shot before. Constance got a new clip loaded, explained everything about how the sights worked and the proper way to hold the weapon, then passed Persephone to Ginny.

The girl's eyes widened as she tested out it's weight. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's heavier than I thought it would be."

Connie couldn't supress a small smirk of bemusement. "Most guns are like that. You get used to it eventually." she told her. "Now remember, it's dangerous while it's loaded so be careful not to point it at anyone and keep the safety on until you're ready to fire."

The girl nodded seriously, then everyone moved back to give her space. Ginny lifted her arms, and upon adjusting to using the sights, flipped off the safety. But when she put her finger on the trigger, nothing happened. The gun lowered a hair and she looked back at them with a puzzled expression.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she questioned. "It's not doing anything."

It looked like she was doing everything correctly, so Constance didn't know what the problem could be. Mihnea, though, thought of something she hadn't.

"The trigger doesn't just slide back when it's touched." he said. "You have to put some force behind it or it won't move."

Ginny blinked at him. "Oh... I see."

The girl lifted Persephone a second time, took aim, then jerked back on the trigger. The gun immediately recoiled at the force of the shot - shocking Ginny so much that she dropped the weapon and jumped back away from it. Her brothers all gave starts at the sight.

"Whoa there, are you okay?" Ron exclaimed. "What happened?"

Ginny looked around at them with wild eyes and thrust a quivering finger toward the gun laying on the ground. "It **moved**!" she said. "It jerked back like it was trying to get away from me!"

Connie laughed and shared a look with her cousin. "That's normal, Ginny." she said reassuringly. "I warned you it had a bit of a kick."

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect 'a bit' to be **that** much!" the girl replied. She put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Scared me half to death! Did I hit anything, at least?"

Mihnea chuckled and pointed at a tree a solid foot away from the target. "If you consider that hitting something." he told her. He pressed a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "You wont be able to hit anything you aim at jerking around like that. Do you mind if I show you a trick?"

The girl looked like she wasn't sure about attempting a second shot, but curiosity won out in the end. She slowly nodded in response to his offer and Mihnea strode over to retrieve the gun and handed it back to her. He carefully positioned her hands in the right places then stepped beside her.

"Stand with your feet shoulder width apart and keep your left foot half a step back." he instructed, falling into the stance to demonstrate. "Let most of your weight fall back on that foot. When you aim, lock your elbows so your arms stay steady."

Ginny readjusted the way she was standing to mirror him. "Like this?"

"Very good." he replied with a nod. He walked behind her and took her head into his hands, turning it toward the target. "Now, think of a person you hate. Someone who makes your blood boil whenever you see them. Imagine their face in the center of that target and aim here." he tapped his finger against the space between her eyebrows. "Right between the eyes so you'll blow their brains out."

"Oh my God, that is so **disgusting**." Hermione muttered in disapproval. "Do you have to turn it into something violent?"

Mihnea's eyes flicked in her direction. "It's called 'stress relief', Granger. The same principle as sticking someone's picture on a dart board. Your focus is better and your aim more accurate when you imagine hurting someone you don't like. Maybe if you tried it a time or two, your knickers wouldn't be in such a twist all the time."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock, while Harry and Ron exchanged a look and let out mutual snorts of laughter. The girl's eyes quickly snapped toward them harshly and they both simpered down. Constance didn't appreciate her cousin picking at her friend so much and she shot a hard glare at him to signal him to stop. Mihnea just shrugged at her and went back to giving Ginny instructions.

"When you're ready to fire, take deep breath in through your nose and **slowly** exhale through your mouth." he said calmly. "As you breathe out, give the trigger a squeeze. Don't jerk back on it. Put every other thought out of your head and make every movement deliberate."

Ginny intently drank in every word he spoke. When he was sure she understood, Mihnea manually readjusted her posture so she was standing up straight, then stepped back and told her to take the shot. Following his lessons to a 'T', the girl focused her gaze down the barrel at the target, took a deep breath, and fired. The bullet didn't strike the center of the parchment, but it did leave a hole about an inch outside of the bulls-eye zone.

"I... I hit it." she said with a blank expression. Her features slowly lit up with the realization of what she'd done. "I hit it!"

Constance couldn't help but smile at the girl's proud, enthusiastic response to the accomplishment. It was nice to see her bubbling with happiness about it. Since there was plenty of ammo and she could always write home to have more sent, she told Ginny to go ahead and use the remaining rounds before handing the gun off to someone else. She never managed to get a bulls-eye, but her shots remained in the same general area, slowly growing closer. With a bit of practice, she had no doubt that the girl would become a good shot. Once her turn was over, each of the boys stepped up to have a go. Fred went first, followed by George. Their aim was slightly better than their sister's, but neither of them ever hit the center. That was to be expected during a first attempt. When Ron's turn came around, he quickly decided that he didn't like the feeling of the gun's recoil and passed it off to Harry after just two shots. ("Bleeding thing moving about makes me nervous." he said.) Of everyone, Harry wound up doing the best. It was his first time using a firearm as well, but it seemed that his 'seeker's eye' worked to his advantage. His forth shot struck the target a couple of centimeters right of dead center.

"Wow, Harry!" Connie exclaimed. "That's really good! There aren't many people who can do that their first time."

The boy turned to grin at her with a restrained sense of pride. "I didn't think I'd hit that close, but I guess it's not that different from getting a fix on the snitch. At least that thing isn't moving around." he said, then looked down at the gun in his hands. "I see what you guys mean about the kick. It feels **really** odd."

"Odd doesn't even come close." Ron commented with a faux shudder. "I have no idea how a person could get used to that. Made my hand go all wonky and shaky." he shook his head and peered over at Hermione. "Well?"

The bushy haired girl blinked at him. "Well, what?"

"Are you going to have to a go or not?" he prodded. "Everyone else has done it."

Hermione studied him for a moment then wrinkled her nose. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

"Oh come off it, Granger!" Fred told her, making a face. "You know you're just as interested as the rest of us. You just wont say so. At least try it once."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "It's really not that bad." she assured her. "I thought it was kind of fun once I got the hang of it."

Hermione just crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Shooting a gun is serious business. It's not something you play around with." she paused to look at Connie. "I understand why your parents would want you to have them with you, but that doesn't change the fact those guns are **weapons**. With something that dangerous an adult should be around to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Constance wanted to groan and beat her head against a tree trunk in frustration. She wasn't still going on about that nonsense, was she?"

"Hermione..." she began slowly. "Having an adult around doesn't magically make everything safe. Mihnea and I have more training in how to use firearms than most of them do."

"I know that and I'm not saying you don't." she insisted. "It's just that **I** would feel more comfortable about all this if we had some kind of supervision, is all."

Connie continued to stare at her, half offended and half confused about her attitude. But when she opened her mouth to say something, Mihnea stepped over and took hold of her arm to make her stop.

"Don't bother." he said. "Granger is scared, so leave it alone."

It was said quietly, but Hermione was close enough to hear the comment. She bristled with indignation. "**Excuse** me?" she demanded. "What did you say?"

Mihnea's head turned toward her and he arched a brow. "You're the one talking about being uncomfortable because there's not an adult around." he pointed out. "That's just a nice way of saying you're scared."

"Scared of shooting a **gun**?" she went on incredulously. "I most certainly am not!"

"Prove it then." he challenged. "Unless you're afraid of making a fool of yourself..."

Hermione glared him down and everyone felt the atmosphere shift and become more tense. Mihnea had found one of the girl's sensitive spots and was deliberately pushing her buttons to get a rise out of her. The tactic worked. With a deep huff of resentment, Hermione squared her shoulders and strode over to Harry.

"Give me that thing." she demanded.

Harry handed Persephone over without argument and grabbed Ron's arm to pull him back out of the way. They all watched as she fell into proper firing stance and raised the gun with both hands to take aim.

"If there are nine rounds in the clip, then there are three shots left for me?" she asked.

Constance gave a start when she realized the question was directed at her. She took a moment to think about it. Ron had shot twice and Harry took four...

"That's right." she confirmed.

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, not looking away from where she was aiming. She tilted her head a bit, closed her right eye, then fired off three shots in quick succession. Everyone else had taken a fair bit of time between shots to adjust to the recoil, so seeing that she was comfortable enough to go so fast was positively shocking. A person with zero experience didn't act that way.

"Sweet Merlin, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed with wide eyes. "What the bloody hell was **that**?"

The girl didn't respond. She only shot a look at him and handed the gun back to Constance. Meanwhile, George had placed a hand up to his brow to peer down at the target.

"Uh... that was cool and all, but you know you missed, right?" he pointed toward the parchment. "There aren't any new holes."

"I didn't miss anything." Hermione replied simply. "I wasn't aiming for that one."

Connie blinked at her in surprise and looked down at the target one hundred meters away. Though it was difficult to make out, there were three new holes situated in the middle of the centermost circle. Hermione had not only hit the target that she and Mihnea used, but made three highly accurate shots in a row. There was no way in hell she didn't know what she was doing. She looked back at her friend in astonishment.

"You never told me you knew how to shoot!" she said in an almost accusing fashion.

The girl shrugged. "I've been skeet shooting with my parents a few times. I never thought it was worth mentioning." She frowned pointedly at Mihnea. "Say I'm afraid of shooting a gun again."

Her cousin was just as taken aback as everyone else. He took a small step back and looked her up and down appraisingly. "I stand corrected."

Fred and George both stared at Hermione in shock, like they weren't sure whether to be intimidated or impressed. "Who **are** you, girl?" they asked in unision.

Hermione looked a bit confused by the question, then decided to take it as a compliment. She smiled at them. "The same person I've always been."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "I am **never **making you mad again." the ginger haired boy declared. "Ever."

Ginny snorted. "Yes, you will."

"Oh, shut it, Gin." Ron said, making a face at her. "I wasn't talking to you."

"Maybe not, but I was talking to **you**." she retorted, planting her hands on her hips. "You know it's the truth."

Mihnea rolled his eyes at the display of sibling rivalry and turned his attention back to Hermione. "Skeet shooting, huh? How many times is 'a few'?"

"Two or three." the girl replied.

One of his eyebrows quickly shot up. "Two or three?" he repeated.

"That's right." she confirmed with a sniff.

He continued to study her intently. If Hermione had gotten that good after being on a range so little, then she had taken to weapons like a fish to water. It was unusual, but some people just had a natural knack for it.

"Rifle or shotgun?" he questioned at last.

"Rifle." she reported. "I've used a .44 and a .30-06, but I didn't like the way either of them handled. I have a personal preference for the M1 carbine."

Mihnea's head tilted sideways. "That's a military grade rifle."

"That was first used by American troops during World War II and continued to be used up to the Vietnam era." Hermione said as if reading from a book. "Yes, I'm aware of that."

Connie noticed her cousin's brow go a notch higher. He was impressed by her knowledge and was trying not to show it. Mihnea cleared his throat.

"Well, I don't know who your instructor was but they did a piss poor job of teaching you the right way to shoot." he told her.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Excuse me? I shot perfectly fine, thank you!"

Harry appeared confused. "She did better than any of us." he pointed out.

"And she had to close one of her eyes to manage it." Mihnea stated plainly. "Which is the stupidest thing a person can do."

Hermione got even more upset if that were possible. "Now look here! I have a dominant left eye and I was taught that closing the weaker one improves focus. If I made an accurate shot, then what does it matter how I did it?"

"Eye dominance only determines how you hold the gun." Mihnea countered. "Closing one of your eyes cuts your range of vision in half and makes you vulnerable. Having good aim doesn't count for much if you can only see half of what's around you. It's **stupid** and someone who has a reputation for knowing everything should know better. You wouldn't close an eye while casting a spell, would you?"

Trust Mihnea to focus on the one mistake she had made. But then, he did have a point. It was a bad habit to have. However, someone who had only been out shooting a handful of times probably wouldn't know that. Her cousin turned away like the conversation was over and Hermione glared at the back of his head.

"Does he **always** have to find something wrong?" she muttered under her breath.

Connie sighed and told her she thought it was his way of giving her constructive criticism, even if it did come across as picking on her. She had to admit it sounded a bit harsh, but he did that to people. Since everyone had gotten a turn and the sky was beginning to darken, they all mutually decided that it was time for them to start packing things up to return to the castle. Mihnea went off to pull down the targets while Connie returned all of their used clips back to the bags they had brought. The others focused on searching out all of the expended shells that had fallen to the ground so there would be no traces left of what they had been up to. Once they were sure all of the metal casings from the bullets had been recovered, the girl collected them and placed them into the bags as well. They would be able to throw them out later. She then pushed herself upright and looked back down toward where Mihnea was. He was taking way too long to pull down two sheets of parchment.

"Mihnea!" she called out. "What are you doing?"

It looked like he had already gotten the hundred meter target down and had come back for the closer one. However, he was just standing there frozen, his back turned to them with his hand resting on the parchment, but not moving. His head was turned toward the left, like he was looking for something. At the sound of her voice he shook his head and turned to crook a finger at her.

"Come here a second." he said. When he noticed the others curiously look over, his eyes narrowed. "**Alone**."

Connie's brows furrowed. That was... odd to say the least. She looked around at her companions and told them to hang tight while she went to see what he wanted, then trotted over. As soon as she was close enough, Mihnea grabbed her hand and pulled her next to him so that both of them had their backs turned toward the collection of wizards behind them.

"Keep your voice down and don't do anything suspicous." he whispered, then gave her a long, searching look. "Please tell me you know something about someone from home being here."

Constance went still and stared at him. What on earth would make him think that? "Of course not." she replied quietly. "If any of them came to the school for some reason, they would let us know so we wouldn't be shocked senseless if we saw them."

Her cousin nodded and shoved a hand back through his hair in irritation. "Yeah... I know. I'm just trying to make myself feel better."

The girl's brows furrowed when his eyes darted toward the left again. "What's going on?" she prodded.

"Something really fucking weird, is what." he replied. He looked back at her and dropped his voice even further. "We're not alone anymore. I haven't noticed anything until just now, but I smell something over **there**," he jerked his head to the left. "That shouldn't be. And it's a hell of a lot closer than I'm comfortable with."

Her eyes went wide. "Please say you're joking!" she hissed. "How close are we talking about?"

"I'm dead serious. About a hundred and fifty meters or so. The scent isn't moving, so whoever it is is staying in one spot."

"**Who**ever?" she repeated. "You mean a **person** has snuck up on us and gotten that close without you noticing! How the hell did that happen, Mihnea?"

"I don't** know**!" he snapped quietly. "If there weren't spells all over the grounds preventing it, I would swear someone apparated because the smell just popped up out of nowhere. If they had walked I would have picked up on it before now." he paused and looked at her with a confused expression that made her nervous. "It's familiar, Connie. I can't tell you how, but it's like I know it from somewhere. When I first noticed, I thought I'd look over and see mom standing there. But... it's not her. It's too different to be anyone I recognize. It reminds me of home, but I can't figure out why. It's seriously freaking me out."

That had to be the most disturbing thing Constance had ever heard him say. Even if he couldn't identify a particular scent, Mihnea **never** got so spooked. If it was enough to rattle his nerves, then it was something to be worried about.

"I don't like this, Mihnea." she said. "What if it has something to do with Sirius Black? We have Harry with us!"

"That's what I'm worried about." he admitted. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at the others, then back to the trees on their left. He took a long, deep breath. "Everything is packed up and ready to go?"

Connie quickly nodded and told him that everything they brought could be grabbed in a matter of seconds. Her cousin was thoughtful for a moment, then looked at her intently.

"Get the others back to the castle. Don't tell them anything until you're out of the forest so they don't panic."

From the way he was talking, she gathered he intended to stay behind and track this mystery person down. She knew he was capable of taking care of himself, but she hated the thought of just walking away and leaving him there alone.

"I am **not** leaving you here by yourself!" she whispered furiously. "What if...?"

"Yes, you **are**." Mihnea retorted before she could finish. "If it were just the two of us I wouldn't say a word, but we have other people to worry about. You have to stay with them in case something gets past me."

Constance still didn't like the plan, but what he said made sense. He could track things by scent for miles if he had to. She couldn't. Her presence would only slow him down and leave all of her friends defenseless. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she asked if he had enough bullets. Mihnea revealed that Venom was fully loaded and he had another clip in his pocket. Knowing that he had ammunition made her feel a small bit better. The girl gave his arm a solid squeeze, instructed him to be careful and to give her a full report when he came back, then turned around and relaxed her face into a bland expression to hide her concern. She jogged back to the others and slung her bag onto her shoulder.

"Everybody ready?" she asked.

They all nodded in response, but appeared curious about the private conversation she had shared with her cousin. George asked what it was about, but she put him off, saying that it was nothing and Mihnea needed to be left alone for a while. He would catch up with them later. The others thought it was weird and not wanting to lie outright, Connie told them she would explain when they got back to the castle. She made damn sure to keep Harry right next to her as they made their way through the forest. The only thing that stopped her from linking her arm with his to keep him from getting too far ahead was the knowledge that it would probably tip them off that something was wrong. After a long walk along the forest path, they exited the line of trees not far from Hagrid's hut.

"Okay, what's going on?" George demanded once they were out in the open. "You're acting weird and Mihnea looked like he was vamping out or something."

Constance paused mid step. "...Vamping out?"

"Yeah, vamping out. He looked like a wild animal that wanted to chase after after something." he asserted. "Do you guys have some special term for that?"

"Um... not really. I've just never heard it described that way..." she said, then shook her head and took his hand to pull him along. "I **said** I'd explain when we got back to the castle."

"Oh no." Fred said firmly. "I'm not playing this game anymore. The castle is right over there, so start talking."

The girl huffed in irritation. "Okay, fine!" she exclaimed. "But we have to keep moving because we don't need to be near the forest."

"Don't need to be near..." Harry began, then nervously looked back at the trees they had just exited from. "What's wrong? Does Bassarab have something going on with him that's... dangerous to be around?"

"Mihnea isn't what I'm worried about." she insisted. "He smelled something weird."

Ron's face twisted up in confusion. "**Smelled** something? I didn't smell anything wonky..."

"You wouldn't have been able to." Connie told him. "None of us would because we're human. Mihnea has vampiric senses that are keener than ours and he can sniff things out better than a bloodhound. He smelled something in the forest that shouldn't have been there, so we needed to leave. Now can we **please** get a move on?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Wait a minute! Something is out there that made you nervous enough to think that we needed to leave, and you left him **by himself**?" she exclaimed. "What if it's Black out there? He could get hurt!"

Constance didn't like being reminded of that fact. "Mihnea knows how to take care of himself." she said firmly. "If Black is out there and he runs into him, I imagine he'll kill him."

Everyone gaped at her and Ginny swallowed. "You really think he'd do that?" she whispered. "Kill a **person**...?"

"A murderer, Ginny." The girl pointed out. "Mihnea has killed bigger, scarier things with his bare hands, so a human being wouldn't be much trouble for him." she paused to sigh. "And he couldn't tell what it was, so it's possible nothing will happen. We just didn't need to stick around to find out."

That seemed to sober everyone up enough to goad them into following her directions. Keeping close together, they headed up to the nearest entrance of the castle and went inside. Once there, they agreed to wait around for Mihnea's return. Most of the other students were busy doing other things or preparing to head up to the dormitories for the night, so they didn't have to worry about anyone wondering what they were doing just standing there. However, it was getting pretty dark and if her cousin didn't make it back soon, a teacher would show up to usher them upstairs before they got any news.

About twenty mintutes passed before Connie finally caught sight of a tall, dark shape making it's way toward the entrance. The growing shadows made it impossible to see any features, but she knew it had to be him from the absence of sound coming from his footsteps. When he stepped through the door and was illuminated by the interior lights, Mihnea's expression was confused and frustrated. He caught sight of them huddled together in conversation against a nearby wall and walked over.

Constance studied him searchingly. "Well? Did you find anything?"

Mihnea shook his head. "It disappeared."

The girl blinked. "Disa... what do you mean, 'it disappeared'?" she demanded.

"Just what I said." he snapped at her. "I started tracking them as soon as you guys left. Whoever it was knew I was there because they kept moving around and I never got close enough to see who it was. They tried following you at a distance, but as soon as you were out of the forest, they doubled back to run further in, then just... vanished. It was the same as how it showed up. One minute the smell was there and the next it was gone."

That wasn't possible. Smells didn't appear and disappear with no explanation and it made the entire situation that much stranger. Mihnea could track anything, so if something was able to evade and escape him like that...

Hermione's lips pursed together thoughtfully. "Are you sure you weren't just imagining it?" she questioned. "I mean... I don't know much about how things like this work, but surely smells can be carried through the air from other places, or..."

Mihnea whirled to face her, his nostrils flaring with irritation. "It **wasn't** my imagination!" he said, upset at being questioned. "There wasn't any wind. Not even a hint of a breeze, and the scent was too strong. I would have been able to tell if it had been carried from somewhere else. It appeared out of nowhere, then vanished like they dropped off the face of the earth. There are no circumstances where that happens naturally. **None**. Someone was **there**."

The bushy haired girl's eyes widened and she quickly stepped back at the forcefulness of his tone. Connie immediately stepped between them and held out her hands.

"Okay, calm down!" she said, then looked pointedly at her cousin. "Could you tell anything about why it seemed familiar?"

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath to get his temper under control. "Not a damn thing." he reported. "It's the weirdest thing I've ever come across before, and I don't like it."

"But what are we supposed to do about it?" Ginny spoke up. "Tell a teacher?"

Fred put a hand on his sister's shoulder to pull her back. "If we tell someone, we'd have to explain what all of us were doing in the Forbidden Forest." he pointed out.

George nodded in agreement and shot a look at Mihnea. "And if it was just a smell, it's not something they'd be able to pick up on anyway."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "We can't just sit around knowing something is out there and not do something!" the ginger haired boy exclaimed.

"Do you have a better idea, Weasley?" Mihnea challenged. "Our hands are tied and there's not much we can do. And I'd like to see what plan a thirteen year old wizard with no battle training or field experience has that can outdo countless protective wards and hoards of dementors."

Ron's mouth opened and shut several times before he finally gave up trying to come up with a rebuttal. There was nothing he could say and everyone knew it. As silence fell around them, Constance cleared her throat.

"We can't go into the forest anymore." she decided. "At least not until we know whatever was out there wont bother us." she looked at her cousin. "Start doing perimeter checks when you can. We may not be able to do much about a strange smell in the woods, but if something comes out onto the school grounds, I want to know about it."

Mihnea inclined his head seriously. "Absolutely." he agreed. "I can take care of that."

_Good._ She thought. In the meantime, all they could do was hunker down, remain watchful, and pray that nothing else happened. But if it did, they needed to be prepared.

* * *

><p>The next morning brought with it the promise of the first Quiddich game of the new year. It was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, so it was bound to be a good one. Everyone tried to put the odd events of the night before out of their minds as they grabbed a bite to eat for breakfast.<p>

And somehow, Constance got pulled into her first real 'hang out session' with Luna.

To be fair, you couldn't really describe it as her being forced into anything. She had noticed the girl quietly working on something at one of the tables and asked if there was anything she could do to help. Luna had been pleasantly surprised to find someone speaking to her and happily accepted her offer. Exactly what they were working on, Connie couldn't say. It looked like a giant sculpted bird that they were sticking feathers into to make it look more realistic. Aside from that, she had no idea what the purpose of it was. And while Luna hadn't complained (yet), Constance was beginning to think she was doing little more than making a mess of things.

"I have no idea how you do this." she said, frustrated that she wasn't able to make her section look as good as the part Luna was working on. "Maybe I should get out of the way and let you do it..."

"Oh, no, it's fine." Luna assured her with a kind smile. "You just have to pay attention to the way the feathers lay. They interlock with each other to form a covering just like on a real bird." she pulled her hands away from the section of wing she was focused on. "See?"

Connie peered at it and found that it was absolutely perfect. Just like every other part the girl had laid her hands on. Her instructions were simple enough in theory, but putting them into practice was more difficult than she imagined it would be. The feathers laid out across the table were all different sizes, and one had to choose which was best suited to the body part being worked on. If you handled them too much, the filaments of the feathers would break apart and become ragged looking and if they weren't inserted in just the right way, they wouldn't lay down flat. The tediousness of it became downright annoying after a while. Connie also couldn't help but notice that a few small sections she had worked on looked better than they had when she gave up on them. She strongly suspected that Luna had gone back and reworked them while she wasn't looking and hadn't said anything about it. Fixing her mistakes so she wouldn't think she was doing as badly as she was. The thoughtfulness of the action was touching, but she was still slightly irritated at not being able to perform as well as her. Maybe she should just admit that she was hopeless at this 'artistic' thing and be done with it.

Connie finally decided to sit back and let the girl put the finishing touches on the bird herself so she wouldn't muck it up. "I'm sorry I'm not helping very much." she apologized.

Luna shook her head. "You really have been helping, I promise. I couldn't have gotten this much done by myself."

She wasn't sure whether to believe her or not, but chose not to argue. "So, is there any particular reason why you're making this? Or did you just wake up this morning and decide to make an eagle sculpture?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that." the blonde girl replied. "I'm doing this for the game. I try to show support for my house when they play."

Ah... so she was making an emblem of the Ravenclaw mascot? The choice of subject matter certainly made more sense now. But how she planned on using the thing, Connie had no clue.

"Um... what are you going to do with it?" she prodded gently.

"Wear it, of course." Luna replied, as if that should have been obvious.

She leaned over to rifle through the bag sitting on the ground between her feet and pulled out what looked like a handknitted cap. The girl laid it on the table in front of her, then carefully picked up the eagle and positioned it to sit on top, hooking the taloned feet into small loops designed to hold it steady. She then drew her wand and delicately waved it over the bird's head, murmuring a few quiet words Connie couldn't make out. The spell took effect and the sculpture appeared to come to life - stretching out it's broad wings to flap as it let out a loud screech. It was one of the most stunning things Constance had ever seen before. **Odd**, yes, but still beautiful in a strange way.

"That's amazing." she breathed, taking in the sight. She shook her head and peered at the younger blonde curiously. "What spell was that? I haven't heard of something like this before."

Luna shrugged nonchalantly. "I came up with it myself." she told her. "Loads of people have done similar things before so I can't say I invented it, but craftsmen tend to be secretive about the spells they develop for personal use. I just studied the effects and experimented until I figured out how to make it do what I wanted. It takes time, but it's not that hard."

She made it sound like it was nothing, but Constance couldn't help but be impressed. In her own experience - as well as being present during some of Fred and George's experiments with spell creation - coming up with new types of magic was labor intensive and tricky. It was one of those things in life that was difficult to do if you didn't have a talent for it. But then, Ginny had once said that Luna was brilliant with spells, so maybe she shouldn't have been surprised.

"Won't it be heavy though?" Connie asked. "A full sized eagle is a **big** bird to have flapping around on your head."

The girl smiled and shook her head in response. "I've had trouble with that before, so I came up with something to fix it." she replied. "I worked in another spell to modify the weight distribution, so once the cap is on, you don't notice that anything is there. It helps with keeping it from throwing you off balance as well." she picked up the newly finished hat and held it out in offering. "Try it and see."

For a brief moment, Constance wasn't sure about putting such an odd looking thing on her head in the middle of the Great Hall. Luna might be able to pull it off, but she was sure she'd look rediculous. _To hell with it. _she thought. She was curious about testing it out for herself and other people's opinions didn't matter anyway. Connie took the eagle decorated cap into her hands and carefully positioned it onto her head. Sure enough, it didn't feel any different that putting on a normal hat. She could clearly hear the squawking and flapping of wings above her, but it had no effect on her posture or balance.

"Merlin's beard, what **do** you have on your head?" A distinctive voice called out from her right. "Don't say you've let the Ravenclaws suck you in!"

Connie glanced sideways and saw that George had finally come down with the rest of the Gryffindor team and was bounding over to see what she had gotten herself into. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment at him seeing her in such a fashion, she quickly reached up to pull the cap off.

"Luna is showing me something." she shouted back at him, then turned to pass the hat back to her. "That's very clever. I never would have thought of it."

The girl smiled brightly. "Thank you." she said graciously. "That's very nice of you to say, but it's really not that much. And you helped a lot." she gave her a sincere look and reached out to touch her hand. "I suppose if the teams are coming down, we'll be heading off to the pitch soon."

Constance nodded in agreement and told her she would catch up with her later. Luna thanked her again for offering assistance, then packed up her things and went off to join the Ravenclaws on the opposite side of the room. The girl watched her go, noting that her eccentric headware made her stick out in a crowd like a sore thumb, though Luna herself seemed to pay the odd looks of her housemates no mind. She found it astonishing that a person could move about with so little care for what others thought of her. There was more to the blonde girl than first met the eye, and she was beginning to see why Mihnea liked her so much. She was interesting, if nothing else. Shaking her head, Connie turned on her heel to meet George and find her friends before they had to leave.

"What?" she asked when she grew close enough to see his expression of interest. "She's nice."

George took the smallest of steps back and held up his hands. "I didn't say a word." he promised. "It's just not everyday you see a giant blue and bronze bird on your girl's head flapping like it's about to carry her off." he extended his broom to gently poke her in the shoulder with the tip. "I was just making sure the Ravenclaws weren't trying to drag you off to the dark side."

One of her brows went up. "The **dark** side?"

"Whatever you want to call it." he ammended. "It's definitely the weird side. Every last one of them has something odd about them. You're weird enough as it is, so it wouldn't take much to send you flying over the edge. You can't blame a bloke for being worried."

Connie's mouth fell open in mock outrage at the tease and she gave him a playful punch to the arm. "Shut your mouth, George Weasley! I am **not** weird!"

"Could have fooled me..." he began, then laughed and skipped back out of the way before she could hit him again. "Calm down, I'm playing! Hey, check it out." he held out his arms and did a little twirl to show off the new additions to his uniform. "This is the first time we get to use the new stuff mom and dad gave us. What do you think?"

She took a step back and looked him up and down, really taking in the full picture he presented for the first time. Back home she'd often heard feminine comments praising the appeal of a man in uniform, but hadn't really understood what they meant until now. Constance had seen her boyfriend play Quiddich dozens of times before, so she was no stranger to outift the team wore. But now, with the gleaming crimson and gold robes and all the new gear that wasn't so worn and heavily used, George looked **good**. Positively dashing, in her opinion. So much so that for a split second, she had to consciously remind herself of how to breathe.

"You look... nice." she told him.

George arched an unimpressed brow. "That's **it**?" he prodded. "How nice?"

"**Really **nice."

He stuck out his bottom lip at her in a pout. "Come on, Connie, you've got to give me something better than that!" he complained. "Fred keeps going on and on about Angelina saying he looked 'positively shaggable', and all I get is 'really nice'. You're cutting me off at the knees here!"

No matter how much she wished she could be suprised to hear that Angelina Johnson had said something like that, she knew it was probably true. And trust the twins to turn getting comments from girls on how good they looked into a competition. Even if it was pure silliness on their part, she didn't like the idea of Fred getting something George didn't. Maybe she could do a bit better.

"Well, perhaps you should make sure Fred knows that when I say 'really nice', what I mean is that I might need to conjure a bucket so I don't drool everywhere while I watch you play." she offered.

George went still and stared at her for a second before his whole face lit up. "Now **that's** more like it!" he said approvingly. "I can definitely work with that."

_He had damn well better be able to work with that. _Connie thought. She laughed at his enthusiasm and let him pull her closer so he could slide his arm around her waist. Together, they walked back to where all of the others were. The rest of the Quiddich team was chattering amongst themselves, and she noticed that Ron and Hermione were both badgering Harry about eating something before going out to the pitch. The boy normally had an air of excited expectation before a game, but this time he was more subdued. However, just as Oliver Wood was rounding everyone up to head off, McGonagall showed up to give them all a lovely surprise.

"Mr. Wood!" the older witch called out as she approached. "A moment of your time, if you please."

Oliver halted mid step and he and the entire team turned around to face her. "Sure." he said. "Is anything wrong, Professor? I want us to run a few drills before we start..."

McGonagall held up a hand to stop him. "This wont take long." she assured him, then looked over the lot of them. "I need to speak to Pot... ah, there you are." her eyes landed on Harry and she cleared her throat. "Mr. Potter, I've just been made aware that you won't be required to use one of Madam Hooch's Cleansweeps today."

Harry stared at her. "Um... that's great, Professor, but I sort of have to..." he paused as the meaning of her words began to sink in. "Wait... Is this what I think it means, Professor?"

McGonagall's face remained unreadable as she studied his now hopeful expression. She excused herself for a brief moment, then quickly returned holding a broomstick that was instantly recognizable. The Firebolt he had recieved two weeks ago.

"I **still** find the appearance of this broom to be highly suspicious." she told him. "However, Professors Dumbledore and Flitwick, as well as myself, have thoroughly examined it, and we have found no reason why it shouldn't be returned to you. Therefore," the woman held the broom out toward him. "You will be using it during the game today. Take care of it, Mr. Potter."

Harry was so excited about the return of his gift that his hands were visibly shaking. He took the broomstick from her and pulled it back to cradle against his chest like a precious thing deserving of worship.

"Thank you, Professor!" he exclaimed.

His fellow teammates suddenly became more animated when they saw the reason they had been asked to stay behind. As Oliver tried to get his team to calm down and focus on the task ahead, Connie saw the smallest of smiles pulling at McGonagall's lips. The woman coughed to draw their attention back to her.

"You should be aware that the entire staff has been wagering on the outcome of this game. I normally don't indulge in gambling myself, but this time I couldn't resist the urge to place an embarrassingly large bet with Professor Flitwick." she informed them, then paused to look at Harry seriously. "I'm trusting you to ensure that I'm not made out to look like a fool, Potter. If Gryffindor loses, I will **not** be pleased. Filius would never let me live it down."

It seemed that the student body weren't the only ones in a tizzy about Harry's new broom. The teachers had to be just as excited in seeing it perform if they were going so far as to place bets on who would win the game. Everyone knew McGonagall and Snape had a running competition going on between themselves since their houses had the biggest rivalry, but no one made a huge deal out of Gryffindor facing one of the other houses before. It sounded like this had just become a **huge** deal. Even with the knowledge that McGonagall was placing most of the responsibility on him, Harry didn't appear the least bit worried. He gave the woman a wide grin and told her she had nothing to worry about. He would make sure they won. McGonagall inclined her head and finally sent them off on their way.

The game itself proved to be one of the most interesting Constance had witnessed so far. If for no other reason than every student in the stands seemed to be more fixated on seeing Harry fly the Firebolt than watching the game itself. Word had quickly spread of it being returned to him, so when the teams walked out onto the field to greet each other, the crowds erupted into the loudest cheers she'd ever heard from them before. She, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had to form a huddle and do a fair bit of shoving to get to the front of the stands to get a good view. When Madam Hooch released the balls and tossed up the Quaffle to begin the game, Harry shot off like a bullet. He moved so fast it was nearly impossible to keep up with where he was. There was no concievable way any other broom would ever be able to keep up with him. Even Lee, who should have been providing commentary on the plays made by the teams, forgot all about his duties and used his loudspeaker to fill everyone in on his opinion of how wonderful the Firebolt was.

"And Potter catches sight of the golden snitch and makes a hard left bank! An impossible manuever for any other broomstick. That'll be the Firebolt's ingenious new breaking system at work! And just look at the incredible acceleration..."

"Mr. Jordan!" McGonagall's irritated voice screeched over the speakers. "This isn't a Firebolt commercial! Focus on the game!"

"You see folks? Even McGonagall's excited about this one!" Lee went on as if it were nothing. "Potter goes into a steep drop with Chang on his tail. Poor girl may as well pack it in now because the Firebolt's speed is just too much for that Comet 260 of hers to keep up with..."

McGonagall finally got fed up with the boy refusing to listen her and grabbed the microphone in an attempt to take it away from him. While she and Lee engaged in a rather heated tug of war, they missed out on seeing Angelina steal the Quaffle to make a goal and George making a spectacular hit to a bludger that then nearly knocked the Ravenclaw keeper off their broom. And still Harry buzzed around, the snitch inches from his grasp while Cho Chang desperately tried to keep up with him. He made a sharp right turn, flew through a hoop of one of the Gryffindor goal posts, then directed the broom straight down. He was flying so fast it looked like he would plow into the ground before he had a chance to pull it back up again. Everyone drew in a sharp, nervous breath at the sight. But finally, after getting so close that his robes grazed the grass, Harry swooped back up into the air and flew high above the pitch with his arm raised over his head in triumph. After only fifteen minutes into the game and one goal made, he had caught the snitch. No one could remember a Quiddich game ever being completed so fast and the enitre stadium erupted into loud cheers and chants of Harry's name. All the Ravenclaws looked pissed that they hadn't gotten a chance to get a single goal, but they would just have to get over it, wouldn't they?

Everyone was so excited to get out onto the field that Connie and the others had to fight just to get out of the stands. Once they succeeded in getting to the ground, they all rushed over to where the teams were exchanging post game handshakes. The moment he was free, Harry found himself staggering under the weight of Ron, Hermione, and Connie throwing themselves at him.

"Oh my God guys, get off!" he cried out. "I can't breathe!"

They all jumped back, but Hermione was jibbering at him in jubilation. "Oh, Harry, that was so amazing!" she cried out. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"You've got to be the best damn flier there's ever been!" Ron added. "We've **never** beaten anyone that badly before! And I don't think Ravenclaw has ever walked away from a game with no points!"

Harry just beamed at the massive amounts of praise coming at him from all sides. After putting up with it for a while, Oliver Wood finally stepped in to get the crowd of students to back off and give him him some room. But the captain was pleased by the outcome himself. He slapped Harry on the back with a wide grin and announced that they would be throwing a celebration party in the common room. Constance couldn't imagine them ever being able to do that without sneaking around, but McGonagall was so happy at winning her bet with Flitwick that she allowed it. When they got back to the castle and commenced plastering every available surface in the common room with team banners and house colors, the older woman surprised them by sending up house elves with refreshments for them. Lee and a couple of guys rigged a radio up with a set of speakers to play loud, upbeat music, while Fred and George broke out some of their fireworks that were relatively safe to set off indoors. They laughed and danced and carried on for hours. As it got later and things started to settle down, the group of friends wound up gathering together near the table laid out with food to watch the goings on around them.

"Who's that girl over there?" Ron questioned, discretely motioning his head toward a short girl with long, russet colored hair across the room.

"Hmm?" Ginny peered over to get a look for herself. "Oh, I know her name but I can't remember!" she said with a small note of frustration. "Faith something or other. She's a first year. Why?"

Her brother shrugged and lightly pulled at the sleeve of Harry's shirt. "She's been staring at you off and on for the past hour."

Ginny frowned and glared down at the floor while Harry's eyes immediately shot up from his plate to look around. "**What**? Where?"

Ron did his little head motion thing again and Harry caught sight of the girl in question. He blinked when she smiled at him and grew visibly uncomfortable. "Oh man..." he muttered, then did a quick side step so that he was half hidden behind Ron.

Connie watched his reaction with amusement. Was Harry Potter hiding from a **girl**? That was just too good to pass up. "What's wrong, Harry?" she prodded. She glanced sideways to get a better look at this 'Faith' person. "She's kind of cute."

"I don't care how she looks." Harry said, giving her a look to show that he didn't appreciate her comment. "I don't like being stared at. Especially if it's a first year."

Fred laughed at him. "That's just girls for you, mate." he said helpfully. "You do something amazing and they're going to stare."

He shot a meaningful look at his twin and George cleared his throat. "You know, **I** think you don't like girls looking at you because there's another one you already have your eye on."

Harry gave a start and stared at him in horror while Connie and Hermione looked at each other with raised brows. That was an interesting piece of information...

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "There's a girl you've taken a liking to?"

"No!" he replied, though he said it much too quickly. He looked back at George with a deep huff. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't, huh?" George challenged.

Fred grinned knowingly. "Seems to me that it took a **looooong** time for you to shake Chang's hand after the game..."

"Chang?" Constance repeated. "You mean Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker?"

"Yep." George confirmed. He jerked his thumb toward Harry. "We were shaking hands with everyone as nice as you please but when he got to Cho, he grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go. Kept yammering on and on about something or other and wouldn't shut up."

Harry's mouth open and closed several times in shock. "Don't make it out to be something it wasn't!" he said. "I whizzed by her pretty fast during the game and nearly knocked her off her broom, so I apologized. That's all I was doing."

"Uh huh." Fred said, looking like he didn't believe a word of it. His lips spread into a wide smile and he thrust a twirling finger into the younger boy's face. "You **fancy** her."

"I do not!"

That's what he said, but every visible inch of Harry's skin had turned a bright shade of red in embarrassment. Everyone noticed it and the twins took that as a cue to intensify their teasing.

"Would you look at that, Georgie?" Fred said, putting a hand to his mouth like he was looking at something he found adorable. "He's gone all red faced now! Our little Harry knows that girls exist now! How cute is that?"

George nodded somberly and sniffled as he wiped a non-existant tear from his eye. "They grow up so fast..."

"Shut **up**!" Harry exclaimed, rushing forward to give the pair of them a hard shove. "It's not like that at all! I..." he hesitated, then squared his shoulders resolutely. "I respect her as a person. Cho is nice. She's a great seeker and an awesome flier." he suddenly got this faraway look in his eyes, like he momentary forgot where he was and who he was talking to. "I've never seen anyone ride a broom like she does..."

Hermione gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth to stiffle her loud giggle, while Connie's lips formed an 'o' of surprise. No matter what his intentions had been, that comment came dangerously close to being perverted. Harry didn't even realize how dirty it sounded until Fred grabbed it and started running.

"Ooooooh! It sounds like you're **jealous** of that broom of hers!" he said with an excited glint in his eyes. "I didn't know you had it in you. And with an older woman too!"

Harry blinked at him, his eyes going wide as he realized how his words had come across. "No no no no no!" he exclaimed, waving his hands wildly. "I didn't mean it that way!"

"Right..." George said, giving him a mock understanding pat on the shoulder. "Because you respect her as a person."

"Can't say girls like Chang are really my type, but if they were, I wouldn't mind 'respecting her person' either." Fred announced. "She does have an awfully nice person, doesn't she?"

When Harry began sputtering in protest, a look of mortification written across his features, they laughed good naturedly at him. Ron was the only one who didn't - which was probably due to his being uncomfortable with the whole thing. Ginny found some way of excusing herself to get away from them, but if she had been around, she probably wouldn't have liked it much either. Eventually, the twins dropped their teasing of Harry when Fred got distracted by the sight of Angelina standing in the corner with a group of her friends and went over to talk to her. Constance then deftly commented that she was thirsty and asked George if he'd go fetch something to drink from one of tables. The moment he was gone, she attempted to wipe the grin off of her face so Harry would stop acting weird.

"You know it's okay, right?" she prodded gently.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "There's nothing wrong with saying you like someone."

Ron, however, crossed his arms over his chest and sniffed. "If you're into that sort of thing."

Harry seemed to have calmed down and was about to say something to girls, but stopped and gave the ginger haired boy next to him a look of reproach. "You have a **problem** with Cho?" he demanded.

Ron looked at him oddly and took a step back. "You're the one going on about not liking her!" he said defensively. "And I never said I had a problem with her. It's just... well... she's a Ravenclaw, isn't she? And she talks funny."

Connie gaped at him. "No she doesn't." she countered. "I'll admit I haven't heard her talk all that much, but it sounds like she just has a thick accent."

"Exactly." Ron said, pointing at her. "Have you ever heard an asian girl talk that way? Chang opens her mouth and this heavy Scottish accent comes out that doesn't fit with how she looks. It's **weird**."

"Honestly, Ronald!" Hermione said chidingly. "That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. It doesn't matter one bit if she's asian, white, black, or purple with green polka dots. If someone lives in a particular place their whole life, it shows in their speech patterns. Have you ever considered that someone like Cho might think that **we** talk funny?"

"Bleeding hell, 'Mione, will you calm down!" the boy protested. "All I said was that it sounded weird!"

The two of them began bickering back and forth like they always did and when George got back with Connie's drink, he arched a brow and asked her what was going on. She quietly explained the nature of the argument, all the while noticing that Harry had taken the opportunity to slip away while they were distracted. She supposed it wasn't unusual, given how much they had been playing with him. Since everyone else was occupied with other things, the girl decided to just enjoy the rest of the party with George. There was another thought brewing around in her mind anyway.

"How many of those indoor fireworks do you have left?" she questioned.

George cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "A few dozen." he replied. "And we've got the stuff to make loads more if we need to. Why?"

Connie's lips pulled into an evil looking grin and she gestured for him to lean down so she could whisper her idea into his ear. George listened intently and watched as she pointed to where Fred and Lee were engaged in a flirting competition with a gaggle of girls. His whole face lit up and he smirked in approval.

"Oh, you are **wicked**!" he said quietly, then gave her a quick kiss. "Hang tight. I'll get the stuff."

They had to sneak into a relatively quiet corner to hook all of the fireworks together and Constance had to manuever them into position without raising suspicion, but the effort was well worth it. Once they stood back out of the way and George cast the spell to light the fuses, the mass of fireworks hidden under the table next to Lee exploded in one fell swoop - scaring the living daylights out of everyone nearby. The girls around them scattered with loud screams as multicolored sparklers danced through the air and chased them around the room.

"Damn it, George!" Fred shouted, ducking to avoid being struck in the face by a stray sparkler. "You're dead!"

"It was her idea!" George fired back, thrusting an accusing finger at Connie.

Of course, that didn't deter them from going after him, but Constance found herself having to dash around the room and climb over furniture to keep from being tackled in revenge. All in all, it wasn't a bad way to add a little spice to the party.

* * *

><p>Since the majority of Ravenclaw house was sullen over their loss of the game, Mihnea invited Luna down to his room to assist him with something he'd been working on. The girl had immediately been interested because she'd never seen another house's dormitory before. He assured her it wasn't terribly exciting, but once he succeeded in sneaking her through the common area to his room, Luna declared that Slytherin house felt rather like sunken pirate's ship. Given that the few windows all looked out onto the bottom of the Black Lake and the giant squid could occasionally be seen swimming by, it wasn't that bad of a comparison. He was going to have to remember that.<p>

Ever since he'd recieved his Christmas present, he'd been thinking about how to modify it. His car was better than he could have asked for, but the interior was far too small. There was only so much he could do with a vehicle that had only two seats and no trunk. Not that he planned on driving around with dozens of people, but having the option to put extra things in it without having to worry about space constraints would be nice. Mihnea came up with the idea of an undetectable extension charm - similar to whatever the hell his mother did to expand her office, but with an added benefit. If anyone searched his car, they would find no magical traces to provoke suspicion. A difficult task, but not impossible. Maybe it was paranoid, but he wasn't going to take any chances with his new toy. He had too much to worry about now. He wanted Luna's insight because with the way her mind worked, she was bound to think of something he hadn't considered. They had made a good deal of progress in his opinion, but the hour was getting late. Mihnea wasn't sure of when Luna normally went to bed and he didn't want her staying up on his account.

"Am I keeping you awake?" he asked.

Luna was sitting cross-legged across from him on the bed with a pile of his papers and notebooks in her lap. She looked up from the notes she was reading through and smiled. "No, you're not." she replied. "It's a weekend, so I don't mind. I usually stay up a bit later this time of year anyway. The manglerants come out when it's cold and I've been looking to see if there are any around the castle."

Mihnea slowly arched a brow. "Manglewrants?"

"Mmhmm." the girl hummed as she went back to the notebook. "I'm not quite sure what they look like because all you can really make out are blue lights floating about. They're quite pretty if you ever get the chance to watch them."

"Oh." he said. "So they're like fireflies?"

"A bit, yes." she confirmed.

Hmm... Magical fireflies that only came out in cold weather? It was an interesting idea, to be sure. Weird blue lights floating around could be attributed to many different things, but if Luna chose to believe they were some sort of animal or insect, he wasn't going to dispute it. There was no harm in having a sense of whimsy. It made life more entertaining and she might just be right.

"I didn't see you during the game." Luna commented idly. "Did you sit with the Gryffindors?"

Mihnea shook his head. "No, I was busy with something else, so I didn't go." he replied, then coughed and looked at her sideways. "I heard you guys lost."

The girl shrugged in response. "Gryffindor has a great team, so I was expecting it." she told him. "It was really something to see Harry fly that new broom of his though. It's a shame you missed it."

It really was, he thought. But a Quiddich game would be the most opportune time for someone to sneak around without being caught due to everyone being distracted and gathered away from the castle. Mihnea had been focused on checking the perimeter of the grounds to make sure nothing was out of place. There hadn't been a single sign of weirdness to be found. Despite that, his absence had probably been a good thing. Having to choose which house to support would have been an odd position to be in...

His thoughts were interrupted by a questioning meow from the floor. Mihnea glanced down and saw Pixie batting her paw against the comforter hanging over the side of the mattress. Seeing that she had his attention, the cat lowered her head to grab something with her teeth, then leapt up onto the bed with them. Mihnea reached out to scratch between her ears, noting the pale green harness dangling from her mouth.

"Time for a wardrobe change?" he asked.

Pixie meowed in response and dropped the straps of leather on top of his feet before sitting back on her haunches to look at him expectantly. He chuckled at her and gently dragged the animal into his lap to work on unhooking the one she was already wearing. Luna watched the display with a passive smile on her face, then turned her eyes toward the harness Pixie had brought up.

"I don't recall ever seeing that one before." she commented. "Is it new?"

Mihnea had paid only enough attention to identify the color, so he looked over it at it to confirm which one it was. His cat had about three different green harnesses now.

"This looks like the one my sister got her Christmas." he replied, then leaned down to speak directly to his cat. "And I'll bet the only reason you want it now is so Seras won't get to see that you like it."

Pixie didn't bother looking back at him, but her posture noticeably straightened, as if preening herself in satisfaction. He gave her a playful tap on the head and pulled the old harness free. Luna put her hand to her mouth to cover a small giggle, then looked at him curiously.

"Sister? You've never mentioned having a sister before." she said. "Is she like you? Half vampire, I mean?"

The question made Mihnea halt for a moment as he considered how he should respond. It would be simple enough to give the girl a brief response with few details. But this was a conversation he'd been thinking about having, and this might be the best way to start. Lord knows it would be easier than bringing everything to a screeching halt and trying to find a way to begin without making things awkward. He cleared his throat and picked up the green harness to replace the one he'd just taken off.

"No, Seras isn't like me." he said as he prodded at Pixie to get her to put her legs through the straps. "She's my dad's fledgling. She was around a long time before I happened."

"Oh!" the girl said, her eyes lighting up with understanding. "I see. So he took her in like a daughter when he made her? Do you have any other brothers or sisters?"

He shook his head. "No, just her. Now, Seras has been with this guy Pip for as long as I can remember, so he's like my brother-in-law." Mihnea paused again, feeling the need to explain. "They aren't married or anything, so technically he's not **really** my brother-in-law, but that's just what we say to keep things simple..."

"Well, of course they wouldn't be." Luna said knowledgably. "Marriage is a human institution. Vampires take mates."

With all the times she had surprised him in the past, he should have known she would come back with something like that. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled approvingly at her.

"That's right." he confirmed. "Anyway, those two are the only ones I have in the way of 'siblings'. The rest is just my mom and dad, my aunt and uncle, and Connie."

He watched as the blonde pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Hmm. Your letters made it sound like all of you are really close. Do you live near each other?"

Mihnea's shoulders lifted. "We all live in the same house, actually." he told her. "It's a big manor just outside of London. And I realize that probably sounds strange, but our parents all..." he searched his mind for the right words. "**Work** together, so it's best if everyone stays in one place."

Luna immediately began shaking her head. "Oh, no, I don't think it's strange." she assured him. "It sounds nice." She set all the objects in her lap to the side, then put her hands behind her, leaning back to rest her weight on her arms. She studied him intently for what felt like a long time. "You know you could tell me anything and it wouldn't bother me, don't you?"

The question came out of nowhere and Mihnea couldn't help but stop what he was doing to blink at her in surprise. "Yes..." he said slowly. "Why?"

The girl shrugged. "You seem nervous." she told him. "Like there's something you want to say, but don't know how. I know some people know things deep down but don't really accept them until they hear them out loud, so I thought you hearing me say that might help."

Was he nervous? Hell, with what he was about to do, it would be freakishly weird if he wasn't. How she picked up on it was beyond him but with the way Luna could seemingly get inside his head and know what he was thinking, it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine that she could. Pixie was beginning to get annoyed with all of his starting and stopping, so Mihnea looked down to focus on finishing with her harness. He fastened the final strap, then gave her a pat and instructed her to get off the bed. For once, his cat didn't whine or cuddle up to him in an attempt to change his mind. She could tell when he was serious about something. He watched her pad over to her bed in the far corner, then turned back and took a deep breath.

"Luna... what would you say if I told you that my family has been exiled from the magical world for more than a thousand years and Connie and I coming to school here is... technically illegal?" he asked.

If she found the question shocking, Luna didn't show it. Rather, she simply readjusted her position to sit upright again and calmly clasped her hands in her lap.

"I would say that Professor Dumbledore must have invited you to come here for a reason." she replied. "I believe that he is a very wise, knowledgeable man who knows when laws should be obeyed and when they shouldn't. And I believe that the magical world has been wrong about a lot of things before, so a family being forced into exile doesn't necessarily mean they deserved it."

That took a small weight off of his shoulders, but Mihnea wasn't quite through yet. "And... what would you say if I told you the most powerful vampire in existence - who was supposedly killed over a century ago - is still alive and working for the descendant of the man who defeated him?"

Luna tucked a stray lock of hair back behind one ear and sniffed. "If it's Count Dracula you're talking about, I wouldn't find that unreasonable." she replied. "I've always thought that story of how he was killed was a bit far fetched. If the things people say about him are true, then he was too powerful to be killed by a muggle that way. My dad thinks that since Abraham VanHelsing was such close friends with the Newsoms, he might have asked one of them to find a way to bind his powers and make him a servant..."

Mihnea's eyes grew wide with shock and he leapt forward, digging his fingers into her shoulders in an iron grip. "He hasn't published that anywhere, has he?" he demanded, his face inches away from hers.

The girl stared at him, taken aback by his reaction. "Of course he hasn't." she said calmly. "My father is an editor, not an author. He only publishes stories that other people have written, and we've never met anyone who believed something like that. Some people suspect that the Hellsing Organization might have vampires working for them, but no one thinks Dracula could be one of them. Dad thinks it's **possibility**, but it was only an idea he had once. He's not sure how much he really believes it."

He searched her face, looking for the smallest sign of untruth and could find none. _Thank God. _Alucard was one of Hellsing's biggest and most closely guarded secrets. If the magical world discovered his true identity - even in the form of a rumor - there was no telling what sort of damage it would cause. Their whole reputation could be made out to be based on a lie.

"Don't ever let him do it." he told her seriously. "If you ever hear about him getting a story about it, or find something that even comes **close** to mentioning that, you make sure it goes missing. If people knew, it would be very, **very**, bad. Do you understand me?"

Luna slowly nodded. "I understand. It's unlikely that it would ever happen but if it does, I'll do my best." she said sincerely. Her eyes flicked down at his hands. "Would you please let go now? You're hurting me."

Mihnea blinked and suddenly realized how tight a grip he had on her arms. Jesus, he should have been more careful. She was going to have bruises now. He quickly let her go and sat back, sucking a deep breath through his nostrils.

"I'm sorry." he said.

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest to rub her hands over the spots he had grabbed. "Don't be." she said. "It's fine." she dropped her hands into her lap and peered at him. "He's your father, isn't he?"

There was no point in asking who she was talking about. Mihnea knew. And after hearing her giving an accurate and detailed description of his dad's place within the Hellsing family ranks, he couldn't find it within himself to be shocked anymore. The question itself didn't bear any traces of fear or nervousness. Only curiosity. And Luna just sat there, calm and complacent, waiting for his response.

"He is." he replied with a swift nod. "But he hasn't been Dracula for a long time. He's Alucard now."

Luna inclined her head in acceptance. "And your mom?"

"My mother is Syn Newsom, the only female nahual there's ever been. She and my dad are mated to each other - which shouldn't be possible, but they did it. She and my uncle Edmund are cousins but they think of each other as brother and sister. He's married to Sir Integral Hellsing, my aunt."

"Connie's parents." she said. It was a statement rather than a question.

"Right." he confirmed. There was a long stretch of silence and her complete lack of reaction made him feel that twinge of nervousness begin to come back. "You aren't saying anything."

Luna blinked. "Why would I say anything?" she asked, as if she genuinely couldn't understand his concern. "This is who you are. No one can control where they come from." she took a breath and folded her legs beneath her to sit more comfortably. "It makes sense, actually. There's never been a human/vampire hybrid with a vampire as the father before. It seems to me that the vampire king and a powerful sorceress would be the only combination to make it possible. From the way you talk and write about them, it sounds like you love your family very much and they love you. That's the only thing that should matter. I think it's interesting."

Interesting. Of all the adjectives she could have used, she chose 'interesting'. The corner of Mihnea's mouth twitched.

"They are **definitely** interesting." he admitted.

She gave him a reassuring smile of her own. "I suppose with what happened over the holidays, all of the Weasleys know? If you knew where they were and how they were doing, then I imagine Hellsing dealt with the vampires then took them back to your house."

It was actually kind of nice that he didn't have to explain all of that. Mihnea told her that she was correct, and that Potter and Granger had been with them as well. However, he cautioned her about openly talking to any of them about it because the oldest Weasley brother, Percy, had remained at school and didn't know all the details of what had transpired. They intended to keep it that way since he displayed loyalty to the Ministry of Magic and might agree to act as a spy for them. Luna didn't like the Ministry or the things they did much herself, so she understood the sentiment.

"I know you and your dad are really close, but you can't tell him anything either." he went on. "Not that I think he would deliberately do something that would cause us problems, but if he runs a magazine and this is something he's interested in..."

Luna leaned forward to take his hands into hers reassuringly. "Don't be silly. I love my dad more than anything in the world, but this really isn't any of his business so of course I won't tell him. You asked me not to say anything about what you were and I've kept my promise. Why would you think I would go back on it now?"

Mihnea shook his head and looked down at her hands. "I don't believe you would break a promise." he told her. "I just... I don't want you to think I'm forcing you to lie to him. That's not what this is about."

"I know." she said. "And you're not forcing me to lie to anyone. You're asking me to keep a secret. There's a difference. And personally, I think that if telling someone something I know would hurt a friend or their family, then lying or refusing to talk about it isn't wrong. One is a lot more important than the other. Everyone may think I'm crazy, but I'm not stupid." she smiled at him and finally let go of his hands to sit back and shrug. "Like I said, my dad isn't sure whether to believe his idea or not and it's only a passing interest. It's really not that hard to divert his attention to something else, so you have nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it."

He hadn't really thought of Luna being a strategic sort of person before and was struck by how much thought she had already put into how to do what he asked. Mihnea truly believed that she would do everything in her power to keep the secret from getting out. It was positively astonishing. Why had he been worried about this again?

"I want you to come visit me over the summer." he told her. "Everyone wants to meet you and I think you'd enjoy it."

His words made Luna's eyes go wide and she suddenly pushed herself up onto her knees to jibber at him in excitement. "You're inviting me to your house? I've **never** been invited to visit someone's house before! Are you sure? It won't be any trouble, will it?"

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "I wouldn't be inviting you if it wasn't okay." he said. "My dad was the one to suggest it. He said you sounded interesting and he wants to see you for himself."

The blonde's eyes grew bigger, if that were possible. "He wants to see me?" she repeated, looking bewildered. "But... why? I'm not that interesting."

"Oh, hush, Luna." Mihnea chided. "You put yourself down too much. **I** think you're interesting. Most of my family hasn't even seen you yet and they think so too." he paused to study her. "So, do you want to come?"

"Oh course!" she exclaimed in a rush of breath. "I'd love to! I'll have to ask my dad, but I'm sure he won't mind. You said you live near London? How would I get there? I would imagine with the problems Hellsing has with the Ministry, you wouldn't have a floo connection."

"No, we don't." he admitted. "Mom and uncle Ed have come up with a way for us to floo out if we have to, but no one is able to floo in. I can come pick you up from your house. I have a car."

"A **muggle** car?" she questioned. "How exciting! I've never ridden in one of those before!"

Mihnea gave her a wide grin and warned that aunt Integra often accused him of being a speed demon. Luna didn't find that the least bit worrisome. She thought it sounded like fun. The rest of their time was spent in conversation about the upcoming visit - with her asking all sorts of questions about what she should do and how she should act. She mentioned hearing that 'high ranking' muggles followed strict traditions and with his aunt and uncle being knights, she wanted to make sure she followed the correct protocol. Part of him could understand where the concern came from, but he told her that there was no need to dress or behave differently than normal. Hellsing manor was their home, not a formal event, so they usually didn't bother with all the stuffy rules. So long as she treated everyone with respect, it would be fine. With that out of the way, Luna then began questioning him about the specific people in his house and how they were. Trying to get an idea of what they were like. So Mihnea wound up telling her stories. Little tidbits of information he thought she would find interesting. Luna sat in rapt attention, soaking up every word he spoke like a dried out sponge doused with water. There was never any judgement from her. Only curiosity and interest in what he had to say. It was rather pleasant, he thought, to be so open and met with only trusting acceptance. But after a while he noticed her attempt to stifle a yawn behind her hand. She was getting tired. Mihnea glanced at the clock sitting on the bedside table and gave a start.

"Good God, it's nearly three in the morning." he said. "You need to get to bed."

Luna frowned, but appeared thoughtful all the same. "I suppose I should." she agreed. She swung her legs around to let them dangle over the edge of the mattress in preparation to stand. "It wouldn't do any good to say I could find my own way back, would it?"

Mihnea stood up himself and crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not going anywhere without me."

The girl shrugged and let out a long sigh. "That's what I thought you would say." she commented blandly. "Suit yourself."

With the way she was, Luna probably thought he was being an overprotective worry wort, but after what happened yesterday, he didn't want to take a chance on her going anywhere alone. Working together, they gathered up all the materials and notebooks they had been using and put them back into their proper places. Mihnea stuck his head out in the hallway to see if the coast was clear while Luna went over to give Pixie a final pet to say goodnight. There were no sounds coming from outside - indicating that the rest of Slytherin house was asleep. _Good._ he thought. That would make things simpler. Once Luna was ready, he took her hand and they quietly stepped out in the hallway. Getting upstairs and through the common room took hardly any effort, and within minutes they were passing through the blank expanse of wall that served as the portal to Slytherin house.

But the second they found themselves in dungeon hallway outside, Mihnea noticed something that made his blood run cold. That damn **smell**. The one he'd picked up on in the Forbidden Forest and hadn't been able to track down. Alien, and yet strangely familiar. It was a scent that made his insides knot up because it didn't belong at Hogwarts - much lessinsidethe castle itself...

He felt Luna touch his arm. "Mihnea?" she whispered quietly. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head and glanced down at her. She could see that something had him rattled and concern was written across her features. Damn it, he had Luna to worry about too. Fearing that if he told her what was going on she would insist on staying with him, he decided to do the next best thing.

"Luna, do you trust me?"

She looked at him oddly, then nodded. "Yes."

Mihnea inclined his head. "Then don't ask any questions. We need to get back to your dormitory fast." he turned and crouched low to the ground. "Jump on. I'm going to carry you."

Luna opened her mouth like she was about to protest, but decided against it. She stepped forward and after taking a moment to figure out the best way to go about it, carefully climbed onto his back. Mihnea hooked his arms under and around her knees to keep her steady, then instructed to her stay quiet and hold on. Once he felt her arms lock securely around his neck, he dashed off at full speed. He ran through numerous hallways and up flights of stairs until they reached Ravenclaw tower. At the top of the tight spiral staircase, he finally came to a halt and bent so she could climb down more easily. Luna appeared breathless and a bit weak in the knees from their excursion and he had to keep a hold on her arms for a moment to keep her from stumbling.

"Are you okay there?" he asked.

Luna nodded in response. "I'm fine. I had no idea you could run so fast!" she pressed a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. "That was fun!"

Had circumstances been different, he might have teased her about it. But now there were more important things to be worried about. Mihnea gave her a small smile that was obviously forced and pointed to the door of her dormitory.

"I need you to go inside and stay there, no matter what happens." he told her in a low voice.

The girl went still and took a step back to study him. "You sense something that doesn't belong, don't you?"

There was that damn perceptiveness of hers again. He was starting to wonder if perhaps she noticed too much for her own good.

"Yes." he said simply, not bothering to give her more than that.

Luna continued to watch him, then let her shoulders slump. "Okay." she said. She then walked forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "I don't know what you plan on doing, but please be careful."

She was worried about him, now? "I always am." he told her. He returned the embrace, then pulled back to turn her toward the door. "Go on."

It was nice that she didn't prod any further or try to talk him out of doing something stupid. He just told her he would be fine and she accepted it without question. Mihnea watched as she answered the riddle offered by the bronze knocker, then waited until she was inside and the door securely shut behind her to turn and head back downstairs. When his feet touched the floor of the main hallway he paused to inhale deeply, getting a fix on where the scent was coming from, then veered left.

Mihnea didn't know who this person was or what they were doing in the castle, but he was determined not to let them get away from him again.

* * *

><p>A.N: I have an important announcement to make. As I'm sure all of you have noticed, my updates have been a little (okay, <strong>very<strong>) erratic and I haven't been doing a good job of answering messages and reviews. I apologize profusely and humbly beg for forgiveness. I want to assure you that I am reading/keeping track of things that are sent to me and I'm not ignoring anyone. Without going into all the gritty details, I'm not in very good shape right now and I simply haven't had the energy to formulate the responses that you guys deserve. Starting May 2, I am going to be having a series of six to eight surgeries that will be spread out over the next several months. So basically there are going to be long periods of time where I feel like I've been run over by a monster truck with shorter spans of time spaced between where I'm more myself.

What this means for Black Magick - I am **not** going on hiatus and I will be making updates. That being said, I'm still going to be feeling shitty and probably loaded up on pain medication. I don't know how that will affect my writing ability, so here's my plan:

I am setting up a tentative schedule of putting up an update every three weeks. Once I get into the swing of things and see how much I can handle, I might move that up to every two weeks. However, if I start getting overwhelmed, I'll have to move things back to one update per month. If I wind up doing more frequent updates, those chapters will be shorter. Updates that take more time to complete will be made longer to make up for me forcing you guys to wait for them. This chapter (obviously) and the next have been written and are ready to go. I have the rest planned out in detail, but they haven't been fleshed out yet. I'll be working on them whenever possible and I'll put them up as I finish. But I want to emphasize that I'm not going to publish something crappy just to meet my self-imposed deadlines. If quality means taking a bit more time to work on it, then that's what I'm going to do. I've also noticed that some of my older chapters have glaring (and downright humiliating) mistakes, so I'm going to be going back to do some intensive editing to fix them. If any of you have noticed something like spelling, grammar, etc. that needs to be changed, please let me know. I'm working without a beta, so your input would be much appreciated. :)

Again, I apologize for this whole mess. You guys have been the most amazing readers an author could ask for and I don't want to let you down. I will do my best to answer messages and comment on reviews as I can, but if I'm not able to, please don't think I don't care what you have to say. Even if I don't respond, I always read what's sent to me and they are the highlight of my day.

In other news, I have just recently joined the Pottermore bandwagon (It's about time too. I've been waiting forever!), so if any of you guys HAPPEN to be on there as well, feel free to add me. Just send me a PM or something here so I know who you are. ~points to self~ This Slytherin doesn't believe in house discrimination, so all are welcome. I could use some buddies in Gryffindor anyway, since the only friends I have who aren't in my own house are Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws. :D (This Slytherin is also terrible at dueling and brewing potions so far. Professor Snape would be so ashamed.)

~cough cough~ Okie dokie, so with that bit of business out of the way, I will step down from the podium and hope that you guys don't get too irritated at me leaving you with a cliffhanger. The next chapter isn't far away, I promises. :D


	57. Catching the Scent p2

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

It took several hours, but eventually the spirit of celebration began to wane and the party finally died down. Most of their fellow Gryffindors had gone to bed ages ago, but Constance and Hermione were still awake. They had to huddle up together on Hermione's bed with the curtains drawn and keep their voices down so as not to bother Lavender and Pavarti, but otherwise it wasn't so bad. The bushy haired girl had a talent for conjuring fires that could be carried around in jars, so they had plenty of light to see by. Long pieces of parchment and various books on magical law lay scattered over the comforter. Most of them were shut, but two or three were open to specific pages they found helpful.

"This is complete hogwash." Connie huffed as she read over a certain passage. "An animal defending itself against the threat of harm can only be used as a legal defense if the wizard's wand was drawn and readily visible. But you can hurt an animal a thousand different ways without a wand! Dragons attack people without wands all the time, so they should be excuted left and right according to this."

"The fact that you need a group of at least a dozen wizards working in unison to make spells effective probably has something to do with it." Hermione commented. "That, and some species are endangered now. We wouldn't have so many dragon products if they didn't kill some of them. They just have to be more careful about it." she paused with a deep frown on her face. "It's disgusting how backwards these magical laws are. Some of these date back to the 1600's and have never been changed. Most of them outright contradict each other. Someone needs to do a full read through and modernize them so figuring out what is and isn't allowed isn't so damn difficult."

Constance blinked and sat back to study her. Hermione rarely cursed and when she did, there was usually a good reason for it. But she had been very snippy and constantly getting into arguments with people since they'd come back to school.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently. "You've been... irritable lately."

The girl looked up from the book in her lap with a disgruntled expression. "I am **not** irritable." She saw one of Connie's brows go up and snapped the tome shut with a deep huff. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am. I just... have a lot on my plate right now. I have essays and piles of homework due in all my classes, this defense for Buckbeak that I've been working on for months and **still** haven't finished, all this stuff going on with Harry..."

Connie pressed her lips together. Indeed, that was a lot of stuff for one person to deal with. And it didn't even include her parents being murdered over Christmas break. Hermione still couldn't bring herself to talk about it and she continued to have nightmares. Constance was famous for being a light sleeper, so she usually heard the girl writhing about in bed and was able to shake her awake before she started screaming. But that constant mental bombardment had to affect a person after a while. Mihnea never acted like himself after having one of his 'nightmare spells'.

"Hermione, I think you need to take a break." she said slowly, knowing that she wasn't going to like hearing it. "Or slow down, at least. You've had to deal with a lot over the past few weeks and all this extra stress is going to drive you batty. I'd have ripped most of my hair out by now."

"And just how do you propose I do that?" Hermione challenged, looking miffed by the idea. "My class assignments have to be done. And I'm sorry, but I'm not going to stop working on this defense for Hagrid. I've put too much into it already, and I think I can be done with it in about a week..."

"I'm not talking about the defense and you know it." Constance interrupted. "You're taking so many classes at once that you have travel back in time to attend them all. I'm stressed out enough with nine classes and getting ready for the Potions OWL. There aren't enough hours in the day for you to do all this work! You aren't sleeping at night and you snap at anyone who talks to you for very long. If this keeps up, you're either going to drive yourself insane or make yourself so sick that you can't do anything at all. I understand being a high achiever and wanting to push yourself, but this is **way** too much."

The girl just stared at her. "You're actually suggesting that I drop out of my classes?" she demanded. "Absolutely not! Dropping out halfway through the school year is the same as giving up, and I **do not** give up."

Oh great, now she was going to start acting stubborn. "It's not giving up, Hermione." she insisted. "It's doing the best thing for your health. You don't even need all these classes! Take Muggle Studies, for example..."

Hermione immediately held up a hand to stop her. "Muggle Studies is one of my **favorite **classes, Connie." she said with a note of warning in her voice.

Constance sat back a bit. "I'm aware of that, but we both know you could take the Muggle Studies OWL or NEWT right now and get a perfect score. You don't need the class for that. And what about Divination? You complain about that class every chance you get! Why force yourself to do something you hate if it's not required? You could spend that time working on more important things."

Though it was painfully obvious she didn't like the thought of dropping any of her classes, Hermione did pause in consideration. She knew something sensible when she heard it. After a long stretch of silence, the girl sighed and cleared her throat.

"I'll... think about it." she conceeded at last. "But I make no promises."

Well, that wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was a step in the right direction. Maybe if she pondered it enough on her own, she'd come around. Connie gave her a small approving smile, then glanced around.

"Um... this is going to sound like it's coming out of nowhere, but where's Crookshanks?" she questioned. "Doesn't he sleep with you?"

"Usually he does, but he sometimes gets up in the middle of the night to go exploring." Hermione told her. "He's very independent and he gets annoyed if he's cooped up in one place for long. He'll come back eventually."

_Hmm_. Well, if Hermione wasn't worried, then it must be a normal thing for him. Since neither of them were tired and they didn't have to worry about classes the next day, they went back to pouring through the law books again. As they were discussing whether a creature acting in accordance with it's nature after a wizard ignored a clear warning could be used as an argument in court, they were interrupted by a sound that made them both freeze and stare at each other in horror.

It was a bloodcurdling scream of terror.

"What do you want? Get away from me!"

Good God in heaven, that sounded like Ron! Both girls went white in the face as they looked at each other, then grabbed their wands and tore open the bedcurtains. Lavender and Pavarti had both shot upright in bed at the sound and were peering around in nervous confusion, wondering what was going on. Hermione and Connie ignored them and bolted from the room to run up to the boys dormitories. As they grew closer the shouts grew louder, as if the other boys had woken up and were fearful themselves. They clambered up the stone staircase in their flannel pajamas and bare feet, then skidded to a halt at the room Harry and Ron shared with Seamus and Neville. The door was ajar and when Hermione shoved it fully open, they both gasped at what they saw inside.

A tall, thin man garbed in a dirty prison uniform and ratty looking coat was standing over Ron with a wand in one hand and a large, gleaming knife in the other. The ginger haired boy had shoved himself back to press himself against the headboard of the bed. His face was ashen and he was trembling in fear, his wand on the bedside table too far away for him to reach before the man could hex him. Seamus and Neville were both awake, but too shocked by the vision before them to react. Harry was crouched down on the floor on the other side of his bed with his wand gripped tightly in his hand, as if he had woken up, grabbed the strip of wood, then rolled out onto the floor to give himself some cover. The man had his back turned, focusing on Harry as if figuring out how to proceed, but the creak of the door made him whirl around to face the girls.

Connie had seen too many wanted posters and pictures in the Daily Prophet not to recognize him. It was Sirius Black. His dark hair was dirty and stringy, falling messily into his eyes which were blazing with intent. His pale, waxy skin stretched tightly over his features, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. There wasn't time to feel fear or even to think. The only thing Connie knew was that this man had invaded **her **house dormitory and was after one of **her** friends. The moment he turned and saw them, she and Hermione both threw out their arms and pointed their wands at him. Harry, too, jumped up from his crouch behind the bed and without meaning to, they all simultaneously fired off spells. Black's eyes widened and he ducked before being struck by them, causing the spells to collide in the air with an explosion of sound and multicolored sparks.

Realizing that the entire house was awakening and he would soon be overpowered by their numbers, Black dropped his shoulder and ran toward the girls, shoving them back before they could cast another spell. They both fell back against the wall and the man shot past them to dash toward the stairs that led to the common room. Refusing to allow him to escape, Connie jumped back up to her feet and gave chase, noting that Harry and Hermione weren't far behind her. Groups of students were coming out of their rooms and sticking their heads out through doorways, wondering what the hell was going on. Some screamed and retreated when they saw the dark wizard run past them, while others just froze and stared in shock with their mouths hanging open. When Constance reached the top of the stairs that led down to the common room, she caught sight of Black about halfway down. Rushing three steps down to give herself a better view, she lifted her arm and shot off another spell.

"Stupefy!"

A jet of crimson light shot toward Black. It looked like it was about to hit him right between the shoulders, but the wizard threw himself at the opposite side of the staircase to avoid it. Constance cursed under her breath furiously. This would be so much simpler if she could just shoot him, but it was impossible in the dorms with so many people around. She was preparing herself to fire off another incantation, but the man whipped around and pointed his own wand at her.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted.

The girl's eyes widened in surprise as the spell struck her square in the chest. There had been no time to move out of the way. It hit before she even saw it. Connie's wand felt like it was ripped from her hand and the sheer force of the magic enveloping her body made her falter and stumble. She wasn't really sure what happened after that. One minute she was standing at the top of the stairs and the next she was doubled over, tumbling down them. The world tilted on its axis and she couldn't tell which way was up, down, or sideways. The familiar sight of the common room floor came into view and she instinctively threw out an arm to break her fall. She collided with the stone floor with a sickening thud and heard a loud snap. A bright, white light flooded her vision as hot, burning pain shot through her right arm to fill her entire body. Constance heard an anguished scream ring out and wondered who it could be. It took a few seconds, but she finally recognized the voice as being her own. She had no idea it was possible for her to scream that loudly. The girl tried to push herself up, but her arm was twisted at an impossible angle underneath her and the smallest bit of movement sent shockwaves of pain through her senses. Ahead, Black darted through the portrait hole and out into the main part of the castle. Connie swore up and down she saw a large, dark shape appear out of nowhere and tackle the man to the ground before the painting fully closed. Did she really see that, or was it just wishful thinking? The vision only lasted a second and the portrait swung shut and blocked the outside world from view.

"Connie!" Hermione and Harry's voices rang out - the girl's in an ear-splitting shriek.

Constance could only listen as a chorus of heavy footsteps dashed down the stairs toward her. Harry's feet came into view first, then both he and Hermione dropped to their knees to get a look at her.

"Oh God, that was a long fall..." Hermione muttered anxiously. "Connie, can you hear me?"

What the devil was she asking that for? "I can hear you." she said, though her voice was strangled and had an odd rattle to it that made her uneasy. She felt a hand press against her back and let out a loud hiss. Even that tiniest bit of pressure was extra weight that she couldn't stand. "**Don't** touch me!"

"Okay, okay!" Hermione exclaimed and the hand on her back disappeared. "Just... don't move."

From what little she could see with her face laying on the ground, Harry looked **pissed**. He began pushing himself up like he was going to run off.

"I'm going to **kill** him." he said in a rather scary tone of voice.

Hermione grabbed his arm before he could get up to his feet. "No, Harry! We have to stay here! He's done too much for you to go after him by yourself."

Overhead, it sounded like everyone in the dormitory was awake and shouting at each other in an attempt to learn what just transpired. It wasn't long before masses of other students made their way down the staircase too. It was strange, being in a position where she had to identify people by the way their feet looked. And being stuck in one place bearly able to breathe and feeling like she'd been run over by a truck while dozens of people were staring wasn't the least bit pleasant. Ginny wound up running over at some point, followed not long after by George - who promptly started freaking out about her laying on the floor like she were dead. Connie could hear Percy yelling at everyone to calm down as well as all her friends chattering at each other about what to do... it was complete chaos and she couldn't make sense of anything.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle cut through the air. "**Quiet**!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, bringing all other sound to a screeching halt. "Everyone get back out of the way this instant!"

The masses of bare and slippered feet departed to give her an opening and McGonagall drew in a sharp breath and ran over, dropping to her knees. "Oh, Miss Stryker..." she said in a low voice, then seemed to turn toward the others. "What happened?"

Harry quickly explained everything he had witnessed, from waking up to find Black standing over Ron with a knife, to the girls rushing in with their wands drawn. Hermione then broke in and told her about their attempt to chase him down and Connie being hit by a spell that made her fall down the stairs.

"We haven't tried to move her, Professor." Hermione said, sounding like she was about to start crying. "I didn't know what to do but if her spine was injured, I didn't want to risk making it worse..."

"My back is **fine**." Constance muttered from the floor. "It's my arm. And it hurts to breathe..."

Everyone seemed to have forgotten she hadn't been knocked unconsious and suddenly all attention was on her. McGonagall asked if she could feel her legs or move her toes. She replied that could and upon wiggling her toes and moving her left leg a bit to prove she wasn't paralyzed, the older woman decided it would be safe to help her up. Gritting her teeth in preparation for the agony ahead, Connie used her good arm to push herself upright while McGonagall assisted by keeping a firm grip on her sides to help her remain steady. The moment she managed to get into a sitting position, it became clear that her arm wasn't the only injury she had to worry about. There was a frothy, reddish-pink pool on the floor where her face had been laying, and when she attempted to breathe deeply, she coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. Her right arm looked like it had been snapped clean in two. The bones didn't break through the skin, but they jutted out enough that you could clearly see where the break was by looking.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." McGonagall muttered to herself, then pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from her mouth. She allowed George and Hermione to take over keeping an eye on her while she stood up. "Where is Ron now?"

"He's still up in his room." Fred's voice called out from somewhere, holding a worried note within it. "He's not doing too good either. It doesn't look like he's hurt, but he's gone all sweaty and shaky and we can't get him to say anything."

The older woman frowned and nodded. "Bring him down, if you would please." she instructed. "I'll take them to the hospital wing. Percy, I'm putting you in charge. Do a full head count and make sure no one leaves the dormitory. No exceptions."

She didn't normally use students' first names, but given that there were a whole host of Weasleys in her house, it was the only way for them to know which one she was talking to. As Fred ran off to collect his younger brother, Constance hissed in pain again and snatched the hankerchief away from Hermione.

"Will you stop it!" she snapped. "Keep brushing against my arm and I swear I'll deck you in the face!"

Hermione's eyes widened and she quickly scooted back. "I'm sorry!" she said.

Connie knew she was only trying to help, but damn it, this hurt worse than anything she'd ever felt before and her fretting and bumping into her all the time was only making it worse. But shouting at her like that didn't turn out to be such a good idea. She doubled over into a coughing fit, her chest aching with each strangled breath. George held her hair back out of the way so she wouldn't cough up blood all over it, then gently pulled her over to rest her head against his shoulder. It took a while, but Fred and Ginny managed to get an extremely shaky Ron down the stairs to join them. His face was pale and coated with a thin sheen of sweat. The moment he saw Connie sitting on the floor with George holding her and wiping blood off her face, he froze and began shaking even worse.

"Oh, bleeding hell..." he murmured in a squeaky voice.

"Please, remain calm, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall told him gently. "We're going to have both of you looked at. Now, Mr. Potter, if you would, please assist Ron. George, you and Miss Granger help Miss Stryker. We have a long way to go and we don't need anyone falling out."

The three of them nodded in understanding and Harry slid one of Ron's arms over his shoulders to help him stay steady as he walked, while George and Hermione stood and carefully helped Connie get up from the floor. He stepped over to her uninjured side and she had to lift her good arm and place it around him so he could put his arm around her waist. Hermione stayed half a step behind her with her hands on her back - she supposed so she and George would be able to safely lower her down if she fainted or or something.

As they were preparing to leave, Ginny anxiously ran forward, ringing her hands. "Can't I go too, Professor?" she pleaded, looking at Ron. "He's my brother!"

"And I assure you, he will be well taken care of." McGonagall assured her. "But I can't escort an entire herd of people about the castle. Stay here, where it's safe." she looked away from the girl to find one of her other siblings. "Fred, keep your sister with you. I'll send word back as soon as we know something."

Fred nodded seriously and pulled Ginny back to stand with him. With that, everyone else moved back out of the way and they moved as a group toward the portrait hole. McGonagall instructed Harry, Hermione, and George to keep their wands out and at the ready, then retrieved her own and led them out into the castle.

* * *

><p>As Mihned followed the scent from Ravenclaw tower, he mentally poured through all of his options. With it being inside the castle, the entire situation would have to be carefully handled. If this mystery person he was tracking turned out to be dangerous, he would have to disarm and restrain them so they could be handed over to the right people. Not that he wouldn't be able to get away with ripping someone to pieces in a secluded stretch of hallway, but dealing with the dead body afterward would be a royal pain in the ass. Not to mention all the steps he'd have to take to ensure that a murder couldn't be traced back to him...<p>

All of these thoughts came to a halt when he realized where the smell was leading him. He was on a direct route to Gryffindor tower and the closer he got, the stronger the scent became. His insides knotted up with worry and Mihnea increased his pace. When he reached the staircase leading up to the dormitories proper, he froze. There were **sounds** coming from up there that didn't belong. There was some kind of fight going on. Then a loud, ear-splitting howl of pain rang out and the smell of blood drifted through the air. Mihnea's eyes narrowed in fury and he felt his teeth and claws lengthen. It was Connie's voice he heard and her blood that was filling his nostrils. In that moment, every consideration of what to do disappeared. If someone had laid their filthy hands on his cousin, then they were going to die. End of discussion.

Filled to the brim with a new level of intent and urgency, Mihnea bolted up the stairs. He arrived at the entrance of Gryffindor house just as Sirius Black ran out. Not wasting a second, he leapt forward and tackled the man to the ground. Black hadn't expected anyone to be there and went down without much trouble. However, once his surprise wore off, he fought violently for his freedom - pulling, kicking, and punching at every opportunity. As they bitterly scuffled on the floor, Mihnea had to admit to being struck by the wizard's resilience. He had a lot more fight in him than you'd expect from someone who looked so malnourished. Finally, Mihnea succeeded in flipping Black over and clamped a clawed hand tightly around his throat. He leaned forward to bore his eyes into his opponent's.

"I hope you enjoy pain, because you're about to get a lot of it." he growled.

Black went still, his grey eyes widening and his nostrils flaring as he realized he was dealing with a lot more than just a student. If he had done anything to Connie that came close to Mihnea's imagination, he didn't want to simply kill the man. Oh no. He wanted the bastard to suffer in the worst possible way. Draw it out until he screamed and begged for what he deserved. **Then** he'd kill him. Grinning like mad at the new scent of fear pouring off of him, Mihnea grabbed one of Black's arms and gave it a solid twist - snapping it free from the shoulder socket. The wizard howled and intensified his efforts to get away. Mihnea just tightened his grip and was about to start breaking off his fingers one by one when an orange shape bounded out of nowhere and attacked his leg, sinking claws and sharp teeth through the fabric of his trousars and into flesh.

Mihnea snarled between grit teeth and looked back to see what it was. Hermione Granger's cat had firmly attached himself to his leg and was gnawing at him like his life depended on it. What the fucking hell was it **doing**? The distraction was momentary, but it gave Black the opportunity to wrench his good arm free and land a solid punch to his face. The force of the blow was enough to break his nose and Mihnea was so stunned that his grip loosened. The wizard managed to jerk himself free and jumped up from the floor to take off running. With a furious bellow, Mihnea leap up as well and violently shook his leg to get the animal off of him. A particularly strong kick sent Crookshanks soaring through the air. When the feline disappeared into the shadows and hit a wall with a thud, Mihnea bolted off in the direction Black had gone. He was back to tracking the bastard by scent again - though, with the numerous wounds he had inflicted, the task was considerably easier. He followed him downstairs and through corridors, somehow always remaining just far enough behind that he couldn't catch a glimpse of his target. This man knew Hogwarts well enough to know exactly what to do to stay ahead of him. After a long chase through what felt like the entire bleeding castle, Black's scent diverted toward a door on the bottom floor that opened out onto the Southern side of the grounds. He followed it outside, rounded a corner, and found the trail stopped cold.

Black had vanished.

"God fucking damn it!" Mihnea shouted.

How did he **do** that? This was the second goddamn time he'd escaped from him without explanation, and it **shouldn't** have been possible. He was so pissed at himself and the situation that he slammed his fist into the exterior wall, making the stone crack and his knuckles bleed. Thinking the man couldn't have gone far even if he did have some fantastical method of covering his tracks, Mihnea began stalking around the castle. He searched every inch of space for anything out of place. Something to point him in the right direction. Each passing moment made him grow more and more agitated. There wasn't a damn thing to be found. Not a single, tiny clue as to where the wizard had gone.

After picking his way through every available nook and cranny - everywhere a person could hide and a few places they couldn't - Mihnea doubled back with the intention of doing a full search of the Dark Forest. But when he dashed around the the nearest corner, he wound up nearly running over someone who threw a monkey wrench into his plans.

"Mihnea?" Lupin questioned, grabbing his arms to keep them both from falling over. "Good God boy, is that you? What are you doing out here? And what the devil **happened** to you?"

Mihnea had to stop and shake himself. "Professor Lupin?" he asked in surprise, then grabbed the man with a tight grip of his own. "Professor, I **had** him! I had the snivelling bastard in my hands and he got away! Sirius Black broke into Gryffindor tower and I caught him as he ran out. But he managed to get away from me and I followed him down here..."

Lupin held up his hands to stop him. "I know what happened. The teachers are searching the castle and the heads of houses are checking their dormitories as we speak." he told him. He then put his hands on either side of the boy's face and gave him a firm shake. "Mihnea, you have **got** to calm down." he hissed. "If anyone other than me saw you like this, your school career would be over. Do you have any idea what you look like right now?"

He imagined he looked worse than a demon that had clawed its way up from the lowest pits of hell. Not liking it but knowing the man was right, Mihnea closed his eyes and tried to focus on taking deep breaths to calm himself. As he was working on bringing his temper to heel, Lupin let go of him and took a step back.

"Now, would you care to explain what you thought you were doing?" he asked, sounding more disappointed than anything else. "If you knew Black was in the castle, you should have told someone. It isn't your responsibility to hunt him down yourself."

Mihnea's eyes snapped open. "The hell it's not!" he snarled, instinctively drawing back his lips to show his fangs. "The bastard hurt Connie!"

"And you're angry." Lupin said calmly. "I understand that. You have every right in the world to be upset right now. But you **cannot** let your emotions get the best of you. How do you intend to explain how you knew exactly where Black was? How you could follow him when no one else can? You're smarter than this, Mihnea! I know you love your your cousin like a sister and would fight to the death for her. That's a very brave, admirable quality. But if you want to protect her, the **last** thing you should be doing is putting yourself in a position where you could be found out and separated from her." He paused to take a breath and studied him. "Now, once you've gotten yourself under control and look normal again, we'll go to the hospital wing. I understand that's where Constance and her friends are at the moment. I'll go ahead and warn you that by the time we get there, Professor Snape will be aware that you aren't in your dormitory. It would be in your best interests to start coming up with a story to explain all of this - and it had better be a damn good one because Severus is a man who isn't easily satisfied."

Mihnea stared at him for a long time, then sniffed and glared at the wall to his left. He didn't agree with the idea of chasing Sirius Black down being the wrong thing to do. (His father would string him up and beat the hell out of him if he hadn't.) But... he would admit he hadn't been thinking clearly and had made mistakes. Hell, Professor Lupin had gotten so close that he ran right into him without noticing he was there. That alone proved he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings as well as he should have.

It took a few minutes of deep breathing exercises, but eventually Mihnea began to feel more like himself. Lupin looked him over carefully to make sure his fangs and claws were gone and his eyes back to their normal color, then put a hand on his shoulder to lead him back inside.

* * *

><p>Someone really needed to come up with a better way of reaching the hospital wing because walking just wasn't cutting it. The trek from Gryffindor tower was a long one and Constance found it harder and harder to breathe as more time went on. Eventually, she was coughing and sputtering so much that George had to pick her up and carry her bridal style so they could keep moving. Connie had never known he was strong enough to carry her that way. It would have been nice if she hadn't been in so much pain.<p>

Madam Pomfrey had always been a strict, yet kind hearted woman in the past, but now it seemed like her personal section of Hogwarts was a chamber of horrors and the mediwitch herself had been designated to act as her torturer. Perhaps that was an overdramatic exaggeration, but that's certainly how it felt. The woman was wide awake when they arrived and upon taking in Connie's condition, immediately set to work. Since Ron was well enough to walk about on his own, she decided that he could wait. After getting them set up on cots arranged next to each other, she performed a thorough examination. The injury to her arm was obvious, but Pomfrey explained that her difficulty breathing and coughing up blood was due to a broken rib puncturing her lung. Spells had to be performed to snap the bones into their proper places (which was damn near worse than having them broken in the first place), then Connie had to drink down blood replenishing and pain potions along with something to accelerate her body's reabsorption of the fluid filling up her punctured lung.

"It's going to be uncomfortable for a while." the woman told her with a frown. "These things take time to correct, but you'll feel better in a few hours. In the meantime, there's not much to be done but grin and bear it, I'm afraid. Try not to get too excited or you'll fall into another coughing fit."

Connie just blinked at her. So she was going to be laying there wheezing like she had an elephant sitting on her chest for the next God knows how many hours? She was expecting better news than that. But then, she supposed she should be thankful not to be recieving a death sentence. Falling down a long flight of stone steps could have done **much** worse.

Once she was looked over and stabilized, Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to Ron. He was pretty much fine aside from being in shock over waking up to find a dark wizard about to kill him. She gave the boy a calming draught to bring him back to his senses. All the while, Professor McGonagall was flitting about like a bumblebee, casting nonverbal patronuses in the shape of housecats in every direction. What they were for, none of them had a clue. There weren't any dementors around to guard against. After a while, it appeared she must have been using them as some form of communication with the rest of the staff because the hospital doors opened to admit Dumbledore - closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Connie's dad.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she caught sight of her son. Harry moved to get out of the way as she rushed over to pull him into her arms. "Oh, my baby, are you hurt?" she asked, then saw George and leaned forward to grab his arm. "And Georgie! You're covered in blood! What..."

"It's okay, mom." he interrupted in a tone meant to calm her down. "None of this is mine."

Connie turned her head sideways on the pillow and frowned at the large bloodstains on his shirt. "Oh George, I'm so sorry." she wheezed. "I coughed all over you..."

"Be quiet, Con." he told her. "I don't care."

He said that, but she still didn't like the idea of bleeding all over him like that. The girl turned her eyes to look over his shoulder at her father quickly coming over. When she saw him, Hermione rose from the opposite side of the cot to give him her space.

"Daddy." Connie said, happy to see him, but confused by his presence. "You're here."

"Of course we're here." Edmund said as he sat down. "When Dumbledore told us what happened, we weren't about to sit at home twiddling our thumbs." he brushed his fingers through her hair and worriedly looked her over. "Jesus, you're a mess. What happened?"

He said 'we' instead of 'I'. The girl knew full well that hadn't been a meaningless slip of the tongue. That meant her mother was in the castle as well - probably staying out of sight until it was safe to come see her. Constance opened her mouth to answer his question, but Hermione beat her to it.

"Sirius Black hit her with a spell that made her fall down the stairs." she said in a rush of breath. "Harry and I were right behind her and we both saw it."

Harry heard what they were talking about and came over, his face a shade paler than usual. "I tried to grab her but it all happened so fast..."

Edmund held up his hands and told them it was fine. They weren't to be blamed for anything. George then glanced at Connie and cleared his throat. "Her arm is snapped and Madam Pomfrey says she broke a rib and punctured a lung. She's been coughing blood up everywhere. We got about halfway down here before she couldn't do it anymore. I had to carry her the rest of the way."

Her father stared at him, then set his jaw in irritation and began looking around for anyone wearing something to indicate they were a medical person. He finally picked out the medi-witch quietly giving the Headmaster a report. "If she has a punctured lung, then why doesn't she have a chest tube?" he demanded.

Madam Pomfrey blinked at him in confusion. "A what?" she asked. "I've never heard of such a thing! It must be some sort of muggle remedy." she shook her head and fell into the reassuring mode she used when dealing with a student's parents. "I assure you, sir, if I thought for a second that her injuries were beyond my abilities, I would have sent her to St. Mungos for treatment. It looks much worse than it is."

Edmund didn't look very happy, but Connie told him that she did feel a bit better than she had when she first came in. The potions were just slow in taking effect. She didn't much like the idea of going to a magical hospital anyway, no matter how bad it was. There was no telling what they would do and her dad and aunt always made out like muggle medicine was generally better when it came to more serious injuries. McGonagall noticed his expression and came over to have a word.

"You're Connie's father?" she asked.

He nodded in response. "I am." he said, then extended his hand. "Edmund Stryker."

The woman gave him a brisk nod and took his hand. "Minerva McGonagall." she said. "Your daughter is one of my Gryffindors. I and the heads of the other houses look after our students as if they were our own. I promise you we are doing everything in our power to get this mess sorted out." she then straightened and turned to address Dumbledore. "I've notified the other house heads and sent the rest of the staff to search the castle."

"Very good." the man replied, inclining his head. "Have we any news on how Black managed to enter the Gryffindor dormitories?"

"He had a password." a familiar voice declared. Everyone turned their gaze toward the door to see Professor Snape striding in, his black robes flowing around him in an intimidating manner. "The knight guarding the entrance claims that Black had a scroll of parchment with him bearing numerous passwords. He was forced to admit him when he read off the correct one."

How the bleeding hell did Sirius Black get a list of passwords for their dorm? Hermione's face went ashen.

"Oh, Neville..." she said quietly, then shook her head. "Neville had a list of passwords! He took to writing them down because the knight changes them so often and he can never remember them."

Dumbledore studied her consideringly. "You're sure of that, Miss Granger?"

"Positive." the girl replied. "I'm sure because he was rather upset the other day and mentioned it had gone missing."

Snape responded to the news with a sneer. "Trust Longbottom to be ineffectual at remembering something as simple as a password."

The Headmaster shot a chiding look in his direction, then cleared his throat. "Have all of the students been accounted for?"

The Potions Master squared his shoulders. "Everyone has been ordered to remain in their dormitories until further notice." he replied. "Mr. Weasley reports that all Gryffindor students are present aside from the ones brought here. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout can account for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and all of my Slytherins are where they should be... save for one." he gave Dumbledore a meaningful look. "I'll leave it to you to guess who."

_Oh Jesus_. Connie thought. That shape she had seen attacking Black before the portrait closed hadn't been her imagination after all. Mihnea **had** been there. She felt her father squeeze her hand in a silent warning not to say anything. There was really no point to it because everyone in the room knew exactly who Snape was referring to. Her cousin had a standing reputation amongst the staff for his sneaking about at night, even if they were never able to prove it. Professor McGonagall worriedly pressed a hand to her chest and opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped before any sound came out.

"Not to worry, Professor Snape." Lupin's voice called out from the doorway. "All students accounted for."

Professor Lupin walked through the hospital doors with his hand on Mihnea's shoulder. Constance's eyes grew wide and she forced herself up into a sitting position when she saw him. He had a bloody rag pressed to his nose and his hair and clothes were messy - like he'd been in a hell of a fight. Her cousin froze the moment he entered, as if sensing the presence of something that surprised him, then looked over at Connie's cot.

"Um... hi, uncle Ed." he said.

Edmund inclined his head in acknowledgement, then Mihnea turned his eyes toward Constance herself and inhaled sharply. She wasn't really sure how awful she looked to others, but from the furious glint in his eye, it had to be pretty bad. Professor Snape looked back and forth between Mihnea and her father for a moment, then briskly walked over and grabbed the boy's arm to drag him away from Lupin - giving the impression that he didn't like the idea of the DADA teacher being so close to him.

"Mr. Bassarab." he said in that slippery, intent voice of his. "**What** have you been doing?"

Mihnea looked at his head of house blandly. "I think you already know what I've been doing, professor."

Snape narrowed his eyes, looking like he wanted to give him a fierce tongue lashing but wouldn't do it with an audience around. His grip on his arm tightened. "Explain yourself."

Constance could see that her cousin wasn't happy about being manhandled so much, but he was doing a rather good job of keeping his temper in check. Taking a deep breath, Mihnea pulled his arm free from the Potion Master's hold and began his story. He had been bored and unable to sleep, so he decided to go up to the Astronomy Tower to do some observations in preparation for his Astrology OWL. He happened to take a route that passed near Gryffindor tower and heard the sound of a fight and Connie screaming. He ran up to see what was happening and caught Black as he was running out. Mihnea tried to subdue him, but the wizard punched him in the face and escaped. He attempted to follow, but lost track of him outside the castle. Everyone listened intently and when he finished, Lupin cleared his throat to draw their attention to him.

"We happened to run into each other outside and I convinced him to give up the chase and come back here." the man informed them.

Snape's eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. "And just what were you doing outside, Lupin?" he asked snidely. "Taking a nice, **moonlit** stroll, were you?"

The jab was obviously meant to taunt him about being a werewolf. Professor Lupin squared his shoulders and calmly clasped his hands in front of him. "As a matter of fact, I was, Professor Snape. I am rather fond of my moonlit walks, as you and every other teacher is aware." he said. "And it was incredibly fortunate that I was because I wouldn't have found Mihnea otherwise. I shudder to think of what would have happened if I hadn't bee..." he suddenly stopped and sniffed at the air. "What **is** that smell?"

The odd question and his sudden shift in mood was incredibly confusing. In the span of a second, Lupin had gone from quietly defending himself to looking around like a starving man that had just caught the scent of a delectable meal. His eyes were alight and he practically started drooling.

Dumbledore put a hand to his mouth and coughed. "I'm afraid I felt a bit peckish this evening and requested that the house elves prepare a new recipe I discovered the other day." he told him nonchalantly. "Quite an extraordinary dish and delicious in the most sinful way. Remind me to let you try it some time. The smell must be all over my robes after my being in the kitchens for so long." He caught sight of Snape and McGonagall both giving him odd looks - obviously unable to smell anything themselves - and clapped his hands together with intent. "But we have more important things to be doing at the moment. Severus and Minvera, I would like you to please inform the rest of the staff to call off their search and remain inside the castle until further notice. Send word along to Hagrid that he is to come inside as well."

Professor McGonagall's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Call off the search?" she questioned. "If Mr. Bassarab is correct, then Black may still be on the grounds!"

Snape stepped forward as well. "Headmaster, if I may, we could organize into groups of three or four to search the perimeter..."

The Headmaster held up a hand to stop him. "I'm well aware of the normal protocol for searching for intruders, Severus. However, given our lack of success in the past, I find it highly unlikely that we would find anything. All staff members are to return to the castle and everyone is to remain inside until I say otherwise." he said in a perfectly controlled, calm tone of voice. "Do I make myself clear?"

The professors all exchanged that confused look amongst themselves again. McGonagall was so disgruntled with his order that she walked up to him and put her hand on his arm.

"I don't **like** this, Albus!" she hissed at him.

Dumbledore gave her a small, sideways glance. "I'm not asking you to like it, Minerva." he told her. "I assure you, I have my reasons. Trust me."

The woman was still visibly upset by the idea, but pressed her lips together in a firm line and threw up her hands in concession. Together, she and Snape left the room to do as they were told. The Headmaster then turned to Lupin.

"Remus, I would like you to go to the Gryffindor dormitories to inform everyone of how Mr. Weasley and Miss Stryker are doing. I understand their other friends and family members are anxiously awaiting news. And then, if you would be so kind, make a stop at Ravenclaw tower. I believe Miss Lovegood would appreciate recieving word that Mr. Bassarab is alive and well."

The man shook his head to clear it, then nodded. "Of course, sir."

Professor Lupin took a brief moment to check with the others to see if they were alright, then turned to leave. Dumbledore had a quiet word with Madam Pomfrey, asking her to step out so he could speak to everyone privately. The woman agreed, and upon giving the pair under her watch a final look over and leaving out a selection of potions for Constance to drink at appointed times, left as well. Once they were entirely alone, the Headmaster drew his wand and waved it at the empty space next to Connie's bed - just behind where Hermione was standing. As if an invisibility cloak was jerked back, Connie's mother, aunt Syn, and Alucard all popped into existance. They had been there the entire time, but kept invisible under one of the man's disillusionment spells. Or... Integra and Syn had been at least. Alucard was capable of making himself invisible without any assistance.

Everyone gasped in shock at their appearance and Hermione did a quick, involuntary skip backward when she realized the No Life King had been so close behind her without her knowing. Integra stepped forward, rubbing at the top of her head as if she expected to find it covered in a sticky mess.

"You wizards have the **strangest** way of doing things." she declared. "I'm going to be feeling egg in my hair for the rest of the night."

"I do apologize, sir." Dumbledore told her sincerely. "I'm afraid no one has yet discovered a way around that unpleasant side effect."

The lady knight wrinkled her nose in distaste, while Syn cocked her head to the side and arched a brow.

" 'Delicious in the most sinful way', Dumbledore?" she asked, giving him a faint grin of amusement.

The man responded with an elegant lift of his shoulders and a meaningful smile of his own. "Given what I was referring to, it was the most appropriate thing I could think of." he told her.

No one else knew what the devil they were talking about, but Connie and Mihnea exchanged a look between themselves. Her poor cousin looked a bit distraught by the thought of the Headmaster referring to his mother's scent to one of his teachers that way. With Lupin being a werewolf, they should have known he'd have sensed it. Integra shot a look back at Syn, then focused on her daughter and strode forward. Edmund scooted over to provide room for her to sit on the bed as well. She studied Constance intently and reached out to brush a lock of hair out of her face.

"How are you, my girl?" she asked softly.

Seeing her mother look truly worried about something was rare, but Connie could tell that she was. Her face bore the same guarded, unreadable expression it usually held, but there was concern flickering in her blue eye.

"I'll be okay, mom." she replied. "It's just not very comfortable right now..."

"Well, I don't see why it would be." the knight said with a sniff. She took a moment to glance at her husband. "I know the people here know what they're doing, but I would feel **much** better if you were in a proper hospital."

George took her comment to mean a muggle hospital and leaned forward to reassure her. "Madam Pomfrey really is awesome at this stuff." he told her. "Playing Quiddich will do a number on a person with how often people get knocked off their brooms. And I figure being hit by a bludger is about the same as a muggle being shot with a cannon ball. She always has us on our feet and back to normal in a day or two. You'll see."

Integra looked up from Connie to peer at him. Hearing that seemed to make her feel better about the situation. She inclined her head in gratitude.

"Thank you, George."

He waved her off. "No problem." he said, then shot a look at Connie. "You had better not **ever** get into a duel with someone on the stairs again, and I mean it."

The girl blinked at him. Was he trying to give her orders now? And the way he did it... "So you'll put up with me hunting vampires and doing crazy things... as long as I don't get into any magical duels?" she asked, making sure she was hearing him correctly.

"On the stairs." George said, making it more specific. He shoved a finger into her face. "I don't give a damn about the rest, but **no** magic on staircases."

Mrs. Weasley overheard his use of a cuss word and looked away from Ron long enough to snap at him to watch his language. Constance found the entire thing so out of place that she giggled. Vampire hunting and illegal magic was fine, just as long as she didn't duel on the stairs. The giggle quickly transformed into a full blown laugh.

"George, you have the weirdest priorities I've ever heard of!" she said.

He gave her a small grin. "I thought that would make you feel bette..." his expression dropped and he waved his hands when she started coughing. "Merlin, don't do that!" he grabbed a towel and started scrubbing at her face, making her wrinkle her nose at him. "I can deal with anything else, but don't start with the blood and coughing again. It freaks me out."

Her parents just watched them, both seeming to find the display rather endearing in an odd sort of way. Meanwhile, a few feet away, Syn had pulled over a chair and got Mihnea to sit down so she and Alucard could have a look at him. As she petted at his hair, the vampire took his son's chin in hand and lifted it - forcing his face upward. Alucard's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he grabbed Mihnea's injured nose with his fingers and gave a hard tug on it. The snap of bones falling back into their proper places was loud enough to make everyone wince.

"Ow!" Mihnea exclaimed, throwing the rag up to catch the new fount of red that poured from his nostrils. "Jesus, dad, I just got it to stop bleeding!"

"Quit whining, boy." Alucard snapped at him. He roughly grabbed his face and forced his head up again. "The man who did this had **better** be in worse shape than you."

The words were spoken in a low growl and Mihnea blinked up at him. "Don't worry." he replied. "He is."

The vampire studied his face intently for several seconds, then let go. "Good." He reached into his red duster to retrieve a blood pack and dropped it into the boy's lap. "Drink."

Mihnea stared down at the bag, then looked around at everyone else in the room. He didn't like drinking blood when he had an audience. "Dad, I'm not hun..."

The No Life King leaned down to clamp his hands down on the arms of his chair and let out a low, warning growl from the back of his throat. "I said **drink**." he commanded. "**Now**."

Her cousin knew better than to argue with his father when he used that tone of voice of him. Flinching at the sound of it, Mihnea slumped his shoulders and did as he was told. Alucard sniffed in satisfaction and straightened to take a step back.

Harry watched the odd father/son display, then cleared his throat. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be dangerous if you were spotted?"

"There is no danger or threat too great to stop me from going somewhere when a member of my family is hurt. Especially my own child." Connie's mom told him. She shot a considering look in his direction. "But your concern is appreciated, Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore had chosen to stay back and allow them to have their time together, but Harry's question caused him to get involved with the conversation.

"As this is the second time Black has successfully entered the castle and the Minister chooses to ignore my repeated warnings about his ineffective security measures, I felt it was time to accept assistance from elsewhere." he announced, then turned to address Sir Integra directly. "You are free to search the grounds however you see fit. However, I ask that you use discretion whenever possible. There is a colony of merpeople who make their home in the Black Lake, and we have a sizeable herd of centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. They are two races which have refused legal status as 'beings' to avoid association with vampires, so I don't believe they would take kindly to three of them being in their territory."

The knight rose from her seat on Connie's cot and inclined her head seriously. "Understood." her gaze turned toward her nephew. "He exited on the South side, you said? Which direction was he headed before your professor caught you?"

"I..." Mihnea began, then hesitated. "I don't know."

"You don't **know**?" Alucard repeated, looking pissed by the notion of his son being unable to do something as simple as figure out where a target was.

The boy stiffened defensively and sat up straighter to explain. "His scent is hard to get a fix on." he said, gesturing with his hands. "It appears out of nowhere then vanishes again like it was never there. That's what happened when I got outside. The scent disappeared like Black dropped off the face of the earth. I pulled one of the man's arms out of socket and clawed him up pretty bad so there's no way he could have run as fast as usual and there should have been a blood trail to follow. But there was **nothing** there."

Constance gaped at him and pushed herself up in bed to study him. He had used that description before and she didn't like the implications of it. "It was the same smell that was in the Forest?" she asked.

"Yes." he replied. "Exactly the same."

Hermione and Harry both went still, while Ron's mouth dropped open. "You mean Sirius Black was... **watching** us in the Forest the other day?" he asked with a squeak.

The Hellsing members acted like this was information they hadn't heard before. "Hang on!" Edmund declared, holding up a hand. "This is something you've encountered around here before?"

Mihnea nodded. "All of us were in the Forbidden Forest yesterday - Friday, rather - and the same thing happened." he reported. "That smell just appeared without explanation within a hundred and fifty meters of us. Connie took the others back to the castle and I stayed behind to track it. It followed along behind them until they were out in the open, then doubled back and vanished. I looked around for a long time, but I couldn't find any signs of where it might have gone."

Syn stared at him for a long moment, then shoved herself up from the chair she was sitting in and thrust a finger into his face. "And that's not something you think is worth writing home about?" she demanded, raising her voice.

"I **did**!" he told her. "I sent Archimedes with a message not an hour after it happened, but London is a long way from here. It might not arrive at the manor until later this afternoon."

Connie's mother huffed in irritation about the trouble caused by them not being able to use their phones on the school grounds. If they had been able to call to report this information, they wouldn't have to deal with this sort of lag time. The girl imagined that her dad and aunt would be set to work figuring out a way around the problem the moment they got back home. Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was focused on something completely different. She shot a reproachful look around at all of the children.

"And **what** did you think you were doing out in the Forbidden Forest?" she asked in a shrill tone of voice. "There's a reason it has that name!"

George snorted. "Please mom, since when has something being 'forbidden' ever stopped us?"

Harry quickly stepped forward to chip in before the woman started ranting at him. "Connie and Mihnea go out there to do target practice and we asked to go along so we could watch." he explained.

Mr. Weasley paused to study him, suddenly looking interested. "Good Lord, did you really?" he asked, then looked over at George expectantly. "How did it go?"

"Arthur!" his wife exclaimed. "This is serious!"

The man backtracked and tried to give his boys a lecture about how foolish they had been, but it didn't sound like his heart was truly in it. Molly Weasley was much more upset than he was and it looked like he was only doing it for her benefit.

"Alright, that's enough of that!" The lady knight called out, signalling it was time to stop all the arguing. "Alucard, I want you, Seras, and Pip to divide up and do a full search of the grounds. Be as discrete as possible, but leave no stone unturned. If Black is as injured as Mihnea says, he can't have gotten far ahead."

The No Life King inclined his head. "Yes, master."

Integra sniffed, then turned to look at Syn. "You go along as well. If this man is using some unknown form of magic to cover his tracks, I want it identified and blocked, do you understand?"

"Absolutely, sir." the redhead told her.

Everyone watched silently as the pair of them turned to leave, but the knight cleared her throat to stop them.

"I don't care what you do to the bastard, vampire, but I want him brought back alive and in good enough condition to submit to an interrogation." she said with a noticeable bite in her voice. Integra glanced at Connie for the briefest of moments and the look in her eye was intent and frightening enough to make the bravest of men cower. "You can have what's left when I'm through with him."

From the way she was talking, it sounded like she didn't intend for there to be much left for Alucard when she finished with the wizard. The vampire paused long enough to shoot a wide, sadistic looking grin of approval over his shoulder, then pulled Syn close to him. The pair disappeared in a swirl of shadows - off to join Seras and Pip, wherever they were waiting, and begin the search.

* * *

><p>The vampires combed through every inch of the school grounds for hours. The penetrating shadows of early morning darkness had already succumb to the first rays of sunrise when they returned and gathered in the Headmaster's office to report their findings.<p>

Or, to put it more appropriately, their **lack** of them. They had discovered a few traces indicating where Black had been in the past, but the man himself remained beyond their reach.

"This is **unbelieveable**." Integra muttered in an disgruntled fashion. She rested her elbows on the arms of her chair and brought her hands up to rub at her temples. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." Alucard repeated. His expression was difficult to discern, but his eyes showed glint of irritation. He didn't like the idea of something being beyond him. "There are no signs that Black has been here for the past several hours."

The woman sniffed and turned her attention to Syn. "Not even you?" she asked.

She shook her head. "No, sir." she replied in frustration. "I checked for everything I could I think of. Whatever Black is doing, he's good enough at magic to have figured out how to hide the energy signatures. I couldn't identify any traces of spells or magical effects of any kind. It's the damndest thing I've ever seen."

Behind the redhead, Seras coughed and stepped forward. "We found the scent trails Mihnea was talking about. One that exited the Southern side of the castle, and several in the forest ranging from a day to several weeks old. They all begin and end suddenly - just like he said. Sometimes there were tracks in the snow that start and stop the same way, but they've been walked over by animals so much that they're hard to make out. The scent trail near the castle ended under an overhang, so there weren't any visible footprints to help us figure out what might have happened."

From his seat next to Integra, Edmund frowned and peered at Dumbledore. "You're **sure** it couldn't be apparition?"

"I'm certain of it." the elder wizard replied with a nod. "The anti-apparition wards were cast by the four founders immediately after the school's construction and in ten centuries, they have never failed. Merlin was one of the first students here and he was never able to break them despite numerous attempts throughout his lifetime. Only the Headmaster has the power to lift them, and I only remove the wards over the Great Hall to provide the older students with a place to take their apparition lessons. The earliest of those is scheduled in April, and it's likely they will be cancelled if Black hasn't been captured."

Even if the wards on a particular room **had** been removed, it didn't explain the trail stopping cold outside. The lady knight's expression darkened further and Pip cleared his throat.

"Eet looks like 'e'z been 'iding out een a zet of caves outzide zhat magical village nearby." he stated. "We found a pile of old blankets and zome wood from a zmall fire... Eet's a wonder 'e 'asn't frozen to death wizh az cold az eet's been. Zhe only ozher zhing up zhere waz an old newzpaper."

That got Integra's attention. She lowered her hands to peer at him. "Where is this newspaper?"

"Right 'ere." the captain replied. He pulled a worn, yellowing roll of newsprint from under his coat and passed it over. "I figured 'e zhought eet waz important eef 'e never used eet az fuel."

Having no place to go in such harsh weather, a smart person would use anything they had available to keep themselves warm. The knight took the paper from him and folded it out to read. It was one of those odd wizarding publications with the words printed at all angles and the pictures made to move like miniature film screens. After glancing through the pages, Integra located a picture of the Weasley family posing in front of a pyramid with a brief notice written underneath. Something about Arthur having won a galleon draw and what they had done with the money. Nothing important enough to notice under ordinary circumstances, but still...

"Didn't the Weasleys go to Egypt before Black escaped from prison?" she questioned out loud. "How would he have gotten this?"

Dumbledore leaned forward to get a better look at the paper for himself. "Cornelius took a tour of Azkaban shortly before the escape and had a newspaper with him. I believe he said Black saw it and requested to read it." he paused to sit back consideringly. "The Minister was rather disturbed when he returned and claimed that Sirius Black appeared more... normal than he would have expected."

Thinking that any information they could get would be helpful, Integra decided to probe further. "What exactly do you mean by 'normal'?"

The headmaster lifted his shoulders. "I mean that Azkaban is one of the most unpleasant places on this earth for a person to be." he replied. "Being constantly surrounded by dementors affects the psyche and prisoners who have been held there longer than a few months descend into a state muggles would describe as 'catatonic'. Only mildly aware of their surroundings and bearly able to take care of themselves. During Fudge's visit, Black was not only able to recognize who he was, but have a conversation and give intelligent responses. A person capable of that after serving twelve years is extraordinary. This has led me to speculate as to whether he may have some unknown resistance to dementors. I cannot say if it is innate or something he developed over time, but it would certainly explain how he's managed to get past them so many times."

Edmund rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You've said before that Black is insane?" he questioned.

"I would say that is the general perception of his mental state, yes."

The comment gave Integra serious pause and she sat back to study the man before her. In all of their previous discussions, Albus Dumbledore came across as a very knowledgeable man who carefully chose his words to fully reflect his meaning. She found the way he phrased his statement now curious.

"You don't agree with that assessment?" she asked.

For a moment, Dumbledore only sighed deeply, giving the appearance of an old man who was very tired. "The case of Sirius Black is one I have always struggled with." he admitted. "Understand, I am a man who prides himself on making few mistakes. But being human as I am, when I do make the inevitable mistake, it winds up being considerably larger than most. I believe something must have happened to make him do what he did, but I never thought - and to this day have trouble believing - that he was insane." he made a sweeping hand gesture. "I knew Sirius from his years at school here and his work during the first wizarding war. He was always a very bright, free-spirited young man. A member of Gryffindor house, handsome, popular, and possessing a very strong willed personality. He said precisely what he thought regardless of others' opinions and had an occasional tendency toward recklessness. Not at all unusual for a teenaged boy. He was very good friends with Harry's father, James, and even lived with him for a time after running away from home."

"He ran away from home?" Seras asked, interested. "Why?"

The Headmaster considered how best to respond. "Sirius had the misfortune of being born into a wizarding family who considered themselves members of the 'pureblood elite'." he explained. "In the time I knew him, he openly critized them and made no secret of how much he despised their beliefs. This often brought him into conflict with his parents and younger brother - his mother, Walburga, most of all. A very severe, short tempered woman. Sirius refused to talk about his family, so I'm not aware of the exact circumstances, but he left home at the age of sixteen and James' parents took him in. Walburga disowned him for it and refused to have anything to do with him afterward. Sirius' father, Orion, seems to have had more heart than his wife. He never saw or spoke to his son again, but he either convinced - or as I believe is far more likely, used the imperius curse on - one of Sirius' uncles to write a sizeable inheretance into his will shortly before he died. He lived with James until Mr. and Mrs. Potter were killed two years later. Sirius then moved into a flat of his own, while James and Lily married and settled down to start a family. He did a great deal of important work for the Order of the Phoenix and never displayed any odd behavior or signs of treachery until the attack made on James and his family."

This story was becoming more and more interesting by the second. Integra wished to hear it through to its conclusion so as to better understand the sort of man they were dealing with.

"Go on." she said, gesturing for him to continue.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and readjusted himself more comfortably in his chair. "When we first recieved news that Voldemort might be planning to attack the Potters, I immediately suggested they place their home under the Fidelius Charm with Black as their secret keeper. James and Lily agreed and the new ward was placed on the house. At the time, there was an overreaching concern about the Order being inflitrated by a spy for the Death Eaters. Suspicion was rampant amongst our members, but especially so with Sirius. He began losing his temper more often and isolated himself from those he considered his closest friends. Eventually, it reached a point where the only people he would speak to for any length of time were James and Lily. I assumed his behavior was provoked by his worry for their safety." he paused for a moment and clasped his hands in front of him. "On the night James and Lily were murdered, I apparated to their house to find that Sirius was already there. He appeared genuinely distraught by their deaths and was nearly inconsolable with grief. Initially, he wanted to take Harry with him but when I deduced what happened, I assured him that the boy would be safer at his aunt's house. Sirius didn't seem to like the idea, but gave in and even went so far as to give his motorbike to Hagrid so he could make the trip to Little Whinging more swiftly. Even then I found the action odd because Sirius was very protective of his motorcycle and rarely allowed others to touch it, much less ride it without him. Harry was safely delivered to the Dursley's front step and it was only later that I learned of Black being found at the scene of Peter Pettigrew's murder. Cornelius Fudge had been working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, and he claims that he will never forget how Black was jubilantly dancing through the streets and laughing like a mad man. He never attempted to evade capture and didn't resist arrest. I cannot deny the facts of the case, but it goes without saying that the man they arrested was **not** the man I knew, nor was he the man that I encountered at the Potter's house that night. I've brooded over it for years and to this day I can't come up with an explanation for what may have happened to change his personality so drastically. No one - not even those who hated Sirius - thought he was capable of doing such a thing."

Indeed, Dumbledore's relation of events made the entire situation that much more perplexing. A person willing to murder their closest friends would have exhibited signs long in advance. Small ones, perhaps, but they would be noticeable in hind sight. Edmund questioned whether Black may have had a psychotic break - which would be the best explanation for such a rapid personality shift. But Alucard quickly shot the idea down.

"I have been in the throes of insanity before and I recognize it when I see it." the vampire said smoothly. "This man is **not** insane. His movements are too well planned and he covers his tracks too well. If his mind was unbalanced, he would be making far more mistakes."

As he made his declaration, Syn reached over to pick up the newspaper. A frown spread across her face as she flipped through the pages.

"Call me crazy, but does it not seem like something else is going on here?" she asked.

Dumbledore looked away from the lady knight to peer at her. "How do you mean, Miss Newsom?"

"Well, usually, if you can figure out a person's goal, then it doesn't matter if they're insane or not." she replied. "You can still understand their actions as following a skewed sense of logic. But nothing Black is doing now makes a lick of sense." she turned toward Integra. "When Mihnea smelled him in the forest, the kids were far enough away from the castle that no one would have heard them scream if something happened. They were a group of teenagers, **alone**, and he didn't do anything but watch them. And him going after Ron tonight is **really** fucking weird. Harry supposedly looks just like his father and has a distinctive scar on his forehead. Black should have seen him laying in the next bed. And the way he ran away is odd. He had a wand, but hardly used it to defend himself. The only time he cast a spell was to disarm Connie as she was chasing him. Now, either Black wasn't paying attention to what he was doing or he was deliberately holding back, because a properly cast disarming spell will blow a person back twenty feet or more. If something that powerful had hit her just right, it would have done a **hell** of a lot more damage than what happened from her falling down the stairs. If she had cracked her skull against a wall, she would be dead right now."

Pip realized where she was going and decided to take the idea up himself. "Zeems to me zhat eef I broke into a dorm intending to kill zomeone and got caught, I wouldn't be worried about 'dizarming' people." he said. "I would eizher kill zhem, or do az much damage az I could to zlow zhem down zo I could get away."

"Exactly." the redhead declared, pointing a finger at him. "And if Black had a knife, he could have slit Ron's throat the moment he saw he had the wrong boy. It would have been completely silent and no one would have woken up. **Why** was he demanding to know where someone was when the person he's supposedly looking for was right in front of him?" she tossed the newspaper back down onto the Headmaster's desk and thrust a finger out at it. "And **why** has he kept this newspaper for so long? Or asked for it in the first place, for that matter? There's not a damn thing about Harry Potter in it. The only connection to him that's there is the picture of the Weasleys, and there's no way Black could have known about Harry and Ron being friends until he got here and caught sight of them hanging out together."

With the new way the information was being laid out, it began to appear that Black wasn't after Potter at all. It was possible that was only an illusion brought on by the boy's fame and the people he associated with. Integra gave a start and straightened in her chair, throwing out a hand to rest it on Dumbledore's desk.

"Is there any way there's been a mistake?" she asked. "That Black could be looking for someone other than Potter?"

The elder wizard looked taken aback by the idea. "It's certainly **possible**, Sir Integra, but if that's the case, there's no way of knowing who he's looking for."

"There seems to be a lotgoing on around the Weasleys for them to not have anything to do with it." Edmund commented with a frown. "Is there any reason Black would have a grudge against them? Did Arthur have anything to do with his trial, or..."

"Black never had a trial." the Headmaster informed them before he could finish. "There was so much hard evidence against him and with us being in the middle of a war, the Ministry felt it would be a waste of time and resources." his face twisted up thoughtfully and he rested his chin on his hand to ponder the matter. "Arthur wasn't highly involved in the war effort. He did what he could when he was able, of course, but he and Molly had young children at home and she convinced him to stay out of anything too dangerous. I can't recall him having any connection to Sirius... As a matter of fact, the only tie I can think of between the Weasley family and Sirius Black is through Molly. Her older brothers were members of the Order of the Phoenix. Fabian and Gideon Prewett - identical twins. Fred and George bear a rather startling resemblance to them in both attitude and appearance. But the pair of them were killed more than a year before Sirius was arrested and Molly Weasley herself was never directly involved in the war." Dumbledore frowned deeply. "And if Black is indeed searching for someone else, how do we explain the attacks over the holiday being aimed at Harry?"

"The vampires we interrogated didn't know anything about Sirius Black." Seras pointed out. "The only reason we thought he might have been involved is because of the escape..." she whirled to face Integra. "But if they had never heard of him, he might not have had anything to do with it!"

Alucard's eyes lit up with interest at this new twist to the situation. "Meaning we have two targets working simultaneously." he stated. He held up a finger. "An unknown person or group looking to capture the Potter boy and Black," he stuck out a second finger to join its fellow. "Who is searching for something or someone unknown. You wizards manage to get yourselves into the most convoluted of messes, dont you?"

"Be quiet, vampire." Integra snapped at him. She took to rubbing her temples again, feeling a whopper of a headache coming on. This was problem that would have to be handled carefully. The smallest of mistakes could prove catastrophic. If they were wrong... "Until we have further evidence pointing to who or what Black is really after, we continue to view him as a threat." she announced. "After what happened tonight, I don't like the idea of him getting close to the children regardless of what the hell he's doing. And there is obviously **something** after Potter, so the boy must remain guarded."

They would proceed as they had been. Until they had more information, that was all they could do.

* * *

><p>A.N: I'm thinking I'll have something new prepared to go up in two weeks. So you guys wont have to wait tooooo long. :)<p>

Review!


	58. Girl Trouble

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Constance wound up staying in the hospital wing until Sunday afternoon. When Madam Pomfrey released her, she insisted that she wear an arm sling for another two days to ensure the bones set properly. The girl knew it was a necessary precaution, but trying to write things down in class while wearing the bloody thing was damn near impossible. Thankfully, Hermione and Mihnea took excellent notes in the classes she shared with them, and while Neville's weren't of the same pristine quality as theirs, he loved Geomancy enough to pay attention and take notes that were useful to study by. The only class she really had to worry about was Charms, since that was the one she had with the Ravenclaws and Slytherins this year. Professor Flitwick, however, took pity on her and gave her an enchanted quill which wrote down anything dictated to it. He had always been an especially considerate teacher but Connie suspected that McGonagall may have taken advantage of her friendship with him to make sure he'd allow it.

The entire school fell into a state of anxiousness about Black; Gryffindor house most of all. It was the second time their dormitory had been targeted and this latest attack saw the dark wizard actually come within their walls. Their safe haven - the place they all considered their home away from home - had been successfully invaded. No one felt safe sleeping in their own beds anymore because they all knew that one of their own had woken up to find the man standing there. It could have been any one of them. Since the portraits obviously weren't effective in guarding the entrance, Dumbledore fired the knight that had taken the Fat Lady's place and hired a set of guard trolls. They were a pair of massive, ghastly looking creatures who hulked about with heavy clubs in their hands. Constance personally wondered how much good they would do since Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to knock out a fully grown mountain troll when they were eleven. But apparently these were a different breed with more intelligence (though not by much) and specific training in how to handle situations like this. They relied on visual confirmation rather than passwords so on the day of their arrival, every member of Gryffindor house had to line up outside the dormitory while Professor McGonagall called their names and pointed them out so the trolls would recognize who they were. Poor Neville had nearly fainted when one of them got a little too close for comfort and snorted into his face. Hermione tried to reassure him by pointing out that at least he wouldn't have to worry about remembering passwords anymore. Not surprisingly, it didn't do much to soothe his nerves. No one liked having them around very much.

There was also a second, more mundane reason for the students to be upset - and it was often used as a way of distracting themselves from the more serious matter at hand. The morning after Black's invasion of the school, the hourglasses in the Great Hall showed a discrepancy in house points. Gryffindor had been put ahead of Slytherin by five points after their win against Ravenclaw and Professor McGonagall had awarded ten points each to Harry, Hermione, and Constance for their actions during the attack on their dormitory. Ron was miffed that it hadn't been more than that, but their head of house wasn't known for giving outlandish rewards. Nevertheless, the addition of thirty points **should** have put them further ahead. But the tally showed that Slytherin was in the lead. No one could figure out what happened until word spread that even with as upset as Snape had been with him that night, the man awarded Mihnea fifty points for confronting and attempting to capture Sirius Black. Fifty! Even Slytherins who avoided him like the plague took to bragging about how amazing Mihnea Bassarab was. Three Gryffindors had fought against Black and failed miserably, but it only took one of their Slytherins to send the dark wizard running. The Gryffindor students were quick to point out that Black had run off because Harry and his friends attacked him first, but that didn't matter. There had been three of them, and one of Mihnea. Ron (who they made out to be a complete waste of space for not doing anything) had a panic attack and Connie wound up in the hospital wing for two days from her injuries. All Mihnea suffered was a broken nose. That made him the equivilent of a **god** in their opinion.

The resulting conflict over the details of the incident only served to make things worse. On Sunday morning during breakfast, Draco Malfoy had shouted at the Gryffindor table that it was a shame that Bassarab hadn't waited until after Black slit Weaselby's throat to chase him down. Maybe then they wouldn't look so pathetic, he said. Harry and Ron had immediately jumped up to beat the ever living shit out of him, quickly followed by Fred, George, Ginny, and a few other Gryffindors who took enough offense to get involved. Mihnea, who had been sitting near enough to hear the vicious comment, had grabbed Malfoy by the front his shirt, jerked him up off the floor, and threatened to send him back to his mother in pieces if he didn't shut his mouth and learn some manners. Then announced he'd do the same to any other Slytherin who dared to agree with the boy. Snape wound up breaking up the fight and took ten points away from every Gryffindor involved - which lost them 80 points in one go. Mihnea was then awarded even **more** points for 'having the moral fiber to stand up for the members of an opposing house'. Connie had still been holed up in the hospital wing at the time, but when she heard about it second hand it seemed that the Potions Master had only been using her cousin's response as an excuse to give more points to Slytherin. He certainly hadn't done anything to Draco for being the cause of the whole mess. Gryffindor house believed that they were being unfairly picked on and the vast majority of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students agreed.

With all this bickering going on, one would think that the student body would attempt to place the blame firmly on Mihnea's shoulders. Nothing was further from the truth. Seemingly overnight, the common perception of him began to change. Whereas other Slytherins wouldn't have gotten involved unless they were personally bothered, Mihnea had boldly put himself at risk to come to the defense of Gryffindor house - which was Slytherin's greatest rival. It was also the first time he had visibly lost his temper and torn into one of his housemates for the entire school to witness. Granted, Mihnea hadn't done anything worse than pick Draco up and give him a hell of a scare, but it was enough to make a lasting impression. People had always known that he ignored tradition and didn't behave like most of his house, but Mihnea had still been seen as a person to be wary of due to his being grouped in with the 'bad sort'. Now that the spotlight had been turned on him, he was treated differently. Students still found him dark and intimidating and he still made people a bit nervous... but perhaps he wasn't truly as bad as they had thought. Constance (and all of her friends) were a little annoyed that everyone made such a huge deal about him over **their** contribution, but it was still nice to see that people weren't acting so damn stupid around him anymore.

Of course, her notion of 'not acting stupid' didn't apply to the girls. Good God in Heaven, the **girls**. They were in a category all their own. Never in her life had Connie ever been so ashamed of the other members of the female gender.

When she was stuck in the hospital wing, Fred had commented during a visit that her cousin had a 'gaggle of groupies' following him around now. At the time, Constance had thought he was exaggerating or telling tales for her amusement. It wasn't until she got out and saw the state of things for herself that she realized how right he was. She knew full well that her cousin was no stranger to being noticed by the girls in his own house. He was his father's son, after all, and **very** good looking. The whole 'tall, dark, mysterious' routine he had going on didn't hurt either. But it had never been to this degree before. When Mihnea walked down the halls, girls from all houses would stop and stare at him, then blush and whisper to each other behind their hands when they thought he was out of earshot. Some of the older, braver ones would actually approach him in an attempt to be noticed. He hated the attention and tried to ignore it for the most part. But some of the things these nitwits did were so outlandishly brazen you couldn't pretend it wasn't happening.

One notable incident occured about three weeks after the break-in. Things had finally settled down to a more normal state and people were getting back to business as usual. During study hall, Constance, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had been working on an essay for Transfiguration. To be more accurate: the girls worked on their essays whilst arguing with the boys about doing their own work instead of copying after them. Fred, George, and Mihnea sat directly to their left. They didn't know what the specific questions were, but the twins claimed to have discovered some inside information that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL was going to have some very vampire-centric components. Her cousin had an 'oh, what the hell' moment and agreed to study with them. (Probably because it gave him a legitimate excuse to get away from the Slytherin table for a while.) They were working intently, minding their own business, when George caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He nudged Mihnea's shoulder.

"Badgers at three o'clock."

Mihnea paused to glance in the indicated direction and groaned. "Bleeding Christ, not again." he muttered. He fixed his eyes on the parchment in front of him and took up writing again. "Ignore them and maybe they'll go away."

Curious as to what would inspire that kind of reaction, Connie looked over herself. Standing about ten feet to their right was a group of three older Hufflepuff girls. Sixth years, from the look of them. They were giggling and whispering furiously amongst themselves. Two of them were shoving the other girl toward their table, trying to get her to do something. After a few minutes, their prodding took effect. The girl they were pushing at resolutely squared her shoulders and came forward. Constance didn't know who she was, but she was nice looking. Tall and lean - a ballerina's build - with smooth, coffee colored skin and a head full of thick, tightly curled ringlets that bounced as she walked. You couldn't say she was the prettiest girl around, but she had the air of someone who knew exactly what to do and how to hold herself to... what was a polite way of putting it? Show off her assets and use them to her advantage. Yeah,** that **sort of girl. She waltzed right up to the table across from where Mihnea was sitting and put her hands down on the surface to lean toward him. She wasn't wearing a tie and her shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of cleavage without it being considered indecent. But the way she positioned herself certainly made it so.

"Hello, Mihnea." she said. "How are you?"

Her voice contained a small, yet noticeable sultry tone that anyone with more than two brain cells would notice. Harry and Ron hadn't been paying much attention, but both of them looked up from their papers to see what was going on when they heard it. Hermione quietly berated them for oogling the girl and forced them to put their heads back down. George was very pointedly **not** looking at her, while Fred was doing his damndest not to stare at her chest and failing miserably. Mihnea didn't even look up from what he was doing.

"In case you haven't noticed, I am **studying**." he said firmly.

"I see that." the girl replied. "And I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't help but notice what nice hands you have..."

"So you came over here and interrupted me while I'm doing something important to tell me how nice my hands are?" Mihnea questioned before she could finish, still not looking at her.

The girl appeared a bit put out by him interrupting, but otherwise undeterred. She cleared her throat and went on. "Well, you have very lovely hands, you see. With nice, **long** fingers. Seeing things like that will make a girl wonder... so I came over to ask if there was anything I could do interest you in showing me if the **rest** of you is that way."

Connie's mouth - along with everyone else's who was close enough to hear - dropped open in disbelief. She didn't just say what she thought she said, did she? In the middle of the Great Hall with all these people around? Granted, there were only a handful of people who could actually hear what was being said, but still! What sort of person did that? The moment the proposition left the girl's mouth, Mihnea's quill halted in the middle of the word he was writing. Without lifting his head, his eyes flicked toward her and focused on the sight of her chest put on display for him. For a split second, Connie thought she saw a flicker of consideration on her cousin's face - like he was actually thinking about taking her up on the offer. But the look disappeared almost as soon as she saw it. Mihnea sighed deeply, dropped the quill, and sat up straight to look her full in the face.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Now that she had his full attention, the girl smiled brightly. She thought the question indicated that he was interested. "Yasmin Taylor." she replied.

Mihnea inclined his head. "Alright Yasmin, answer a question for me." he told her. "Do I look stupid to you?"

Yasmin's expression faltered, confused. "Um... no."

"Do I look desperate?"

"No..."

Mihnea sat back and sniffed. "If I don't look stupid or desperate, then I fail to see why you or anyone else would think I'd be interested in someone who prisses around in front of me like a common whore."

The girl suddenly bolted upright and stared at him with wide eyes. "**What**?"

"You heard me." he said calmly. "You're acting like a whore. If you have to sleep with random guys to feel better about yourself, then that's a problem you need to figure out on your own. Being with me wont help you." He jerked his head toward the two girls she had left behind. "And if you need to have sex with me just to impress your friends, then you might want to think about getting new ones because those aren't the sort of people you should be hanging around with. If you can't do that, then you're pretty enough to get any guy you want. Go look for a fuck buddy somewhere else, because you're not going to get that from me." he made a dismissive, shooing motion with his hands. "Now go back to your little girlfriends over there and leave me alone."

With that, he picked up his quill and went back to his work. Yasmin just stood there for a long time, looking like she had no idea what to do with herself. Her expression was difficult to interpret. Constance imagined that most girls would get upset or offended after hearing someone tell them that. But this girl was more... caught off guard. Maybe the way he had been so calm and direct about it put her off balance or something. When Mihnea noticed she wasn't going anywhere, he looked back up.

"I said, **go away**." he told her. Not in a cruel way, but it was spoken in a hard tone that indicated he wasn't going to be argued with.

The girl gave a start and stepped back. Her mouth opened and closed a few times - as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how - then she blushed and turned away. When she rejoined her friends, they all immediately began jibbering amongst themselves.

"Oh my God, he's so **sexy**!" Yasmin declared in a rush of breath.

It was unbelieveable. Of all the reactions she could have had, no one thought **that** would be it. Fred stared at the group of Hufflepuffs as they moved further away, then turned back around with the oddest expression on his face.

"This is unreal. You insult them to their face and they still love you!" He peered jealously at Mihnea. "How do you **do** that?"

"Believe me, if I knew what it was, I wouldn't be doing it." her cousin replied.

Harry and Ron were so taken aback by what they witnessed that they shot an incredulous look at each other, then leaned over to look down the table.

"You mean this has happened more than once?" Ron asked.

"It happens all the goddamn time." her cousin replied with an irritated huff. He thrust a finger out toward where the girls had gone. "At least that one had enough sense to come up and ask. A couple of days ago I was minding my own business in my common room and I caught Desdemona Fortean trying to sneak Innamorartia into my drink."

Constance's mouth fell open with a sharp gasp. "**Excuse **me?"

Harry just looked confused. "What's... 'innamorartia'?"

"It's a potion, Harry." Hermione whispered to him, looking just as disturbed by the idea as Connie felt. "Innamorartia is classfied as a love potion, but that's never what it's used for. It's... the wizarding equivilent of a date rape drug."

Mihnea nodded. "It makes you horny as hell, your inhibitions disappear so you'll do things you'd never normally do, then once it wears off, you can't remember a bleeding thing that happened."

It wasn't the sort of thing anyone would want to find being slipped into something they were going to drink. Mihnea had a natural immunity to magics that were designed to affect the mind like that, but it was the principle of the thing. The potion was specifically created so that rapists could avoid legal trouble by claiming that their victim was willing. It was positively **disgusting**.

"What did you do?" Connie asked him.

Her cousin gave her an intent, meaningful look. "You really don't want to know."

The girl didn't like what the tone of his voice implied. He could have done a whole host of horrid things - some of which were beyond her ability to imagine. She leaned over and grabbed his arm.

"Don't even start with that!" she told him. "What did you **do** to that girl?"

"What do you think I did?" he asked calmly. "When I saw what she was trying to do, I grabbed her, forced the entire bottle down her throat, then left."

The boys' eyes all bulged out of their heads in disbelief and Hermione started flipping out.

"You **what**?" she demanded. Her voice came out louder than she intended and she quickly looked around before lowering it to a venemous sounding whisper. "What if someone found her that way and... took advantage her?"

Mihnea snorted. "Not my problem." he said. "Besides, Desdemona is known for being the whore of Slytherin house, so **if** something like that happened, the only thing she'd be upset about is not being able to remember who it was."

Hermione continued to stare at him open-mouthed. "I can't believe you!" she exclaimed as quietly as possible. "I was just thinking that what you told that girl was the most insightful, intelligent thing I've ever heard a boy your age say before. Then you have to go and come out with something like **that**. What would your mother say if she knew?"

"Oh please, Granger." he said with a dismissive wave. "If mom found out, she'd be pissed at me for all of five minutes then calm down and say the little bitch deserved it."

Connie opened her mouth to argue with him, but slowly closed it again. With everything aunt Syn had been through in the past, she could see her saying something like that. Especially when it came to anything involving her son. She looked across the table at Hermione.

"You know, I think she probably would." she admitted.

Hermione and the two boys sitting with them looked like they weren't sure how to take that. Meanwhile, Fred was still befuddled as to why Mihnea was turning away so much feminine attention. It was something he would certainly never do. As he was teasing/questioning him about his reasoning, a dreamy sounding voice cut into the conversation.

"If want the girls to leave you alone, you could just tell them about your habit of leaving bruises when you get excited."

Everyone looked up to find that Luna Lovegood was standing less than a foot away. It appeared that she might have been there for some time waiting for an opportunity to speak. She was so damn quiet none of them had noticed. When he heard her voice, Mihnea immediately straightened his posture and glanced in her direction with a welcoming expression.

"There are some people out there who wouldn't be put off by that." he pointed out.

The blonde girl put a finger to her lips in consideration. "Hmm... I suppose you're right." she conceeded. "I hadn't thought of that."

Mihnea chuckled at her and reached out to take her hand, pulling her over to sit down next to him. "How are yours, by the way?"

Luna peered at him curiously. "My what?" she asked. Her eyes then lit up in understanding. "Oh, the bruises you left, you mean? They've been gone for days now. I told you not to worry about it."

Constance noticed everyone grow quiet and a bit uncomfortable now that the girl was there. It was probably less to do with Luna herself than with the mention of Mihnea doing something to her that left marks behind. Considering the conversation they'd been having before her arrival, it no doubt conjured up all sorts of odd mental images. The shift in atmosphere around the table could also have been due to Mihnea's quick change of manner. When Luna was around, he automatically became more open and friendly - giving the younger girl his full attention. It was an astonishing thing to see if you weren't used to it. Mihnea told her that he was showing concern because he hadn't intended to be so rough with her (which made everyone feel even weirder), then switched topics.

"So, did you want something or are you just over here to make sure I don't get approached again?" he asked playfully.

Luna gave his shoulder a small swat. "Of course not, silly! I think you're more than capable of scaring the girls away on your own." she told him. "I came to ask you something. I spoke to Hagrid earlier today and he says that the preganant thestrals are due to give birth around the end of April or beginning of May. He said I could come to help if I wanted. But he did say that they only go into labor in the late afternoon or at night when it's quiet..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, leaning across the table to gape at her in surprise. "The **thestrals**? You can see them too?"

"Yes, I can see them." the girl replied, turning to look at him placidly. "I watched my mother die when I was nine years old."

Harry quickly simpered down and winced. "Oh." he said. "Uh... I'm sorry."

Luna gave him a small smile. "Thank you for saying so, but you don't have to be. It was a long time ago." She paused to study each of them intently for a moment, then fixed her attention on Hermione. "You'll see them again one day."

The bushy haired girl went very still, her face white from shock. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I knew you must have seen death if you can see the thestrals now." Luna replied. "All of you have different colors than before. But the change in yours is very dramatic, so you must have witnessed the death of someone you loved very much." her expression became gentle and understanding. "It's a terrible thing to go through, but when people die they never truly go away. You will see them again."

Hermione kept staring at her. "How..." she began softly, then stopped and fixed a hard look on Mihnea that came extremely close to being a death glare. "Did you te...?"

"I promise, Mihnea didn't tell me anything." Luna interrupted before she could finish. "He doesn't have to. I can tell from looking at you. And if it's something you don't want people to know, you don't have to worry about me spreading it around. I'm the safest person in the world to share secrets with, actually. Everyone thinks I'm crazy so even if I **were** to tell someone, they would never believe me, see?"

The last bit was said in a reassuring tone and Luna smiled at her. No one, Connie included, knew what to do or how to respond. She could tell that they had seen death and could gather how close they had been to the victim just by looking. Constance hadn't known such a thing was possible. Not only that, but the girl was aware of what other people thought of her and made out like it was a **good** thing they could use to their advantage. Like they could, if they wanted, make her out to be a bold faced liar and everyone would believe it. And she didn't mind. Mihnea noticed the growing discomfort and cleared his throat.

"So they'll probably go into labor at night..." he said, reminding Luna of what she'd been saying before the interruption.

The girl shook her head and turned back to him. "Yes." she replied. "And it will be in the forest. I know you don't approve of me going out there alone so I wanted to ask before I made any plans."

Mihnea slowly arched a brow. "You're asking me for permission to go out in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night to birth a thestral?" he repeated. "You realize that's more than a month away, right?"

"I know, but Hagrid said he wouldn't know anything definite until a day or two before they go into labor. Possibly not until the day it happens." Luna told him. "And I already know that if you let me go, you'll be going along too. I wanted to give you plenty of forewarning since you have exams to prepare for."

"I'm honestly not worried about the tests." he replied with a sniff, then cocked his head sideways in consideration. "I don't see a problem with that. I guess when it gets closer to time, I'll send Pixie up to stay with you and you can send her to me with a message when you hear something. I'll come to your dorm to help you sneak out." he paused to point a finger at her. "No wandering around without me."

"No wandering." Luna promised, nodding in a serious manner. She then beamed happily and leaned forward to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Thank you!"

Mihnea accepted the embrace with a friendly smile. "No problem."

The girl smiled brightly at him then turned toward Connie. "Would you like to come too?"

Constance gave herself a good shake when she realized she was being spoken to. "Me?" she asked. Her brows furrowed. "Isn't playing with the thestrals the thing you guys always do together? I don't want to get in the middle of your time..."

"Oh, don't be silly." Luna said. "Didn't you say we should spend more time together to get to know each other? We're always doing other things outside of class, so this will be the perfect opportunity for it! Besides, bringing a new life into the world is one of the most magical things there is. It would be a shame for you to miss it."

In Connie's opinion, birthing a flying horse sounded like a messy business so she wasn't sure about how 'magical' it would be. But otherwise, the girl had a point. She didn't know what Luna did outside of class, but she was usually doing things with her friends or George, so she was probably hard to track down. She took a moment to think it over, then nodded in acceptance.

"Sure." she replied. "I'll go if you want."

Luna appeared happy with her response and said she was looking forward to the event. She then returned to her usual nonchalant, dreamy manner and began talking to Mihnea in a softer tone. Something about having an idea for the 'project' they were working on which might help with some of the problems they had encountered. Connie had no idea what they were talking about, but Mihnea's eyes lit up with interest. He questioned Fred and George as to whether they needed his assistance with anything else and they both shook their heads. Either they had finished what they were working on, or they didn't feel they would be able to get anything else done. Her cousin packed all of his belongings into his messenger bag, then pulled it onto his shoulder to follow Luna out of the hall.

Everyone stared as they walked out together.

"Whoa..." Ron said, almost whispering. "Did you guys know Bassarab could smile? I didn't know he could do that."

Constance shot a disapproving look at him, then lowered her head to go back to working on her essay. Meanwhile, Fred and George were staring off toward the end of the hall with curious expressions.

"Okay, what's the deal?" George asked. "If he wants the girls to leave him alone, all he has to say is that he's got a girlfriend. That would take care of most of them."

Connie briefly glanced up from her scroll of parchment. "What makes you think Luna is his girlfriend?"

"Uh, have you **seen** the way they act around each other?" Fred asked. He pointed off in the direction the two of them had gone. "He buys her expensive presents and she sits with him all nice and cozy and gives him kisses? That's definitely girlfriend behavior."

"It was a kiss on the cheek." she pointed out. "I've kissed every last one of you on the cheek at some point. And Mihnea spent a good deal of money on the two of you only a few months ago, so are you going to say he's dating you now?"

Fred scoffed and waved a hand. "That was a business arrangement." he insisted. "Totally different."

"Yeah, and if we had known he was spending that much before hand, we wouldn't have let him do it." George added.

His twin nodded, then put his face in his hands and rested his elbows on the table. "So... what's going on with them? Seems a funny thing to be all mysterious about if you ask me."

Constance huffed and tossed her quill down in frustration, sensing that she wasn't going to get any more work done. "Why are you worried about it?" she asked. "If you want to know so much, why don't you just ask him?"

"We **have**." Fred and George said together. "He won't say a bleeding thing and tells us it's none of our business."

The girl pointed at them. "There you go then." she announced. "It's none of your business. And Mihnea and I have an unspoken agreement not to talk about each other's personal lives to other people, so you're not getting a damn thing out of me."

The twins both slumped and the others looked a bit put out that they wouldn't be getting any information on the matter. Connie thought for a second that would be the end of it and she'd be able to get back to work. But before she had time to pick up her quill again, George nudged his brother in the ribs and whispered something along the lines of: 'Don't worry mate, I've got this'. He then turned on the bench so he was fully facing her and put on his best puppy dog eyed look.

"Please?"

Constance glanced sideways at him and instantly regretted it. Why did he have to look so adorable when he did that?

"I said **no**." she stated firmly.

But George just wouldn't have it. Sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, he leaned forward to rest his head against her shoulder, looking up at her with those beautiful, pleading hazel eyes of his.

"Pretty please with strawberries on top?" he asked sweetly. He lifted his hand and pinched his fingers together so there was a miniscule amount of space between them. "Just a teensy, tiny something?"

Across from her, Hermione's lips were pressed together in a half hearted attempt to cover a smile, while Harry and Ron were exchanging bemused glances between themselves. Connie's face twisted up and she pushed George off her shoulder.

"For God's sake, will you stop acting stupid?" she said with a sniff. "Look, all I can say about it is that Luna Lovegood is **not** Mihnea's girlfriend. Will you leave it alone now?"

Fred's brow went up. "So she's **just** a friend, huh?"

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and shot a unappreciative look at him. "I didn't say she was 'just a friend'." she replied. "Only that she wasn't his girlfriend."

The statement made Ron blink. "What the devil does that mean?"

"Ah ha!" Fred exclaimed, his face lighting up. "So they have an **understanding**, do they? You could have just said so in the first place instead of making it so complicated! I've got one of those with Angie, so I know all about that."

Poor Harry looked hopelessly confused. "Wait, what's this you're going on about? What's an 'understanding'?"

Constance opened her mouth to tell him it wasn't what Fred made it out to be, but he managed to get his word in first.

"You've never heard about having an understanding with a girl before, mate?" he asked. "It's where you're more than friends but you don't date each other so you're not stuck with just that one person. It lets you keep your options open, see?"

Hermione frowned pointedly at him. "And how does **Angelina** feel about that?"

Fred shrugged. "She doesn't care. She doesn't tie me down, I don't tie her down, and everyone's happy. Angie knows she's my number one."

"Are you sure about that?" she proded, looking unconvinced. "It sounds like you just have commitment issues."

As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Fred immediately straightened his spine and threw out a hand to shush her. "Don't say the 'c' word!" he admonished. "It's bad luck! That and the 'r' word are the worst things you can say in front of girls. It makes them go crazy in the head!"

Constance made a face. "What 'r' word?" she asked. Her eyes lit up when she understood what he must have meant. "You mean relationsh..."

"Shut your mouth!" he interrupted. "Did you not hear what I just said? Damn Georgie, you need to teach your girl how to open her ears up a little."

George held up his hands to signal that he didn't intend to go there. "Hey now, don't go pushing things off of me just because you can't keep a girl longer than five minutes." he said. He leaned toward Connie and lowered his voice. "He's just jealous."

Fred's mouth fell open in mock outrage. "I am **not** jealous! My longest was three months, thank you very much." he countered. When he saw Hermione about to say something, he went on. "And no, Miss Know-It-All, I don't have any 'c-word issues'. In fact, I'm doing everyone a favor. **This**," he jerked his thumb toward his chest. "Is too much Weasley for any one girl to handle."

For a brief moment, everyone stopped to look around at each other, letting his words sink in, then they all snorted and burst out laughing. Connie thought it was so damn funny she had to lean over and grab George's arm to keep herself from slipping off the bench to roll on the floor.

"Is that what you're doing, Freddie?" she asked between giggles. "Spreading yourself around so no one gets overloaded?"

"Damn straight, I am." he replied. He grinned in that way that showed he was deliberately making fun of himself for their benefit. "Why, if I stayed with a girl too long, her head might explode from the sheer awesomeness of me! I can't imagine anyone who'd want to clean up a mess like that."

That made them all laugh even harder if it were possible. Hermione somehow managed to sober up enough to comment on it.

"So you have commitment issues **and** you're full of yourself?" she questioned.

"Merlin's beard, woman! Stop saying that ruddy word!"


	59. Intervention

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter and I'm not making any money from this.

Fifth year was a period of transition for the students at Hogwarts. It was a time when everyone had to begin thinking about their long term goals and what would be needed to achieve them. School policy stated that all fifth years were required to meet with their head of house to discuss which classes they wished to continue no later than a week after OWL exams. But each house had their own ways of doing things. Professor Sprout was the only teacher known to wait until after the tests to meet with her students. The other three scheduled their meetings in advance - most likely to allow the students with average grades time to prepare so they would get a sufficient score to move up. It also gave them plenty of time to think over their choices. The classes you took in your last two years could make or break a person's future career, so it was a big decision to make. Most would flip flop back and forth several times before making a declaration.

Mihnea had made his all of his choices long ago, so he knew exactly what he was going to do. As he had never been a borderline student (and didn't intend to become one), he had little doubt that he would be eligible for them. All he needed was for Snape to sign off on them and he'd be good to go. When a notice was posted in the Slytherin common room about the Potions Master now scheduling meetings, he was the first to sign up. Mihnea thought it best to get it done and out of the way so he could focus on more important things.

On the appointed day, he headed down to Snape's office and arrived five minutes early. The man was finishing up with some last minute grading, so he wound up having to wait outside for a summons. When he was finally invited inside, his head of house gestured to the chair across from his desk.

"Sit down, Mr. Bassarab." he instructed. Mihnea did as he was told and the man returned to his own seat before pulling out a sheet of parchment and a quill. He cleared his throat formally. "It should go without saying that what you choose to do with your final years here will follow you for the rest of your life. With that in mind, do you have any questions or concerns you care to discuss?"

"Only one." he replied. "I recieved a message from Professor Dumbledore at the beginning of term mentioning a class in Alchemy. I've seen it on the course lists, but I haven't found anything more specifc than that."

Snape glanced up from the parchment for a moment. His expression didn't change, but a glint of approval sparked in his dark eyes. "Alchemy is a class which is strictly regulated by the Ministry of Magic due to its subject matter and advanced nature." he informed him. "There may be no more than ten students enrolled in each grade level at any one time and the requirements for acceptance are rigorous. There usually aren't enough suitable students to warrant giving it a time slot. However, I understand we may have enough now to offer it next year." his posture straightened as he went on. "The course itself is divided into two parts. Professor Dumbledore would teach the lecture based class, which would be held on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3:00, and the practical lab class would be taught by myself on Wednesdays at 2:00."

Mihnea considered it. That didn't interfere with the other classes he'd picked. And if there was any possibility of Alchemy being offered, he was going to jump all over it. "What are the requirements for getting in?" he asked.

"A score of O on the Potions, Arithmancy, and Herbology OWL's." the Potions Master replied. "As well as a lack of a serious disciplinary record. I don't forsee anything barring you from being accepted." One of his brows went up a hair and the tip of his quill hovered expectantly above the scroll of paper. "I take it you're interested?"

The boy nodded to show that he was and watched as the man scribbled it down on the appropriate line. Herbology wasn't one of his favorites, but his history of recieving E's stemmed from boredom rather than a lack of knowledge. Getting a good grade on the exam would be no trouble now that he knew he needed it. With that, he listed off his other choices. Genethlialogy was the advancement from Astrology he'd been looking forward to - which required Arithmancy as a prerequisite as well. Potions was a given. It would follow along similar lines as Alchemy, but would be different enough so as not to be redundant. Mihnea's final pick was Rhabdomancy. Whereas the other three were things he could see himself using in the future, this was based more on sheer intellectual interest. Not something he truly **needed**, but the class was fun and he wanted to continue with it. All of them were scheduled in the afternoon hours or at night - meaning that he would be able to sleep late in the mornings if he wanted. Funny how little things like that seemed to work out by chance.

Snape obviously approved of him continuing with his class. Genethlialogy didn't surprise him either. He sniffed as he wrote it down and commented that he had expected as much. But the course Mihnea chose to fill the his last available time slot gave the man serious pause. In fact, he was so taken aback by it that he didn't even bother to write it down.

"Rhabdomancy?" he repeated. Snape looked up to peer at him. "Mr. Bassarab, this schedule you're proposing has no classes involving practical spellwork."

Mihnea couldn't help but arch a brow. "I'm aware of that, sir."

"Then you should **also** be aware that the vast majority of careers require a NEWT level class in at least one area of spellwork." the man pointed out. "It is uncommon for a job to require any of the courses you've selected aside from Potions and none, to my knowledge, require this combination. By cutting out all other practical classes, you are severely limiting your opportunities for the future."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't need a class to teach me how to cast spells." Mihnea countered, feeling a twinge of irritation rise up at the turn of events. "I can learn those things just as well - and **faster** - by reading the books. I won't need them with what I plan on doing later on anyway."

"And just what **do** you plan on doing with your life after school, Mr. Bassarab?" Snape asked pointedly.

That was a dangerous question for him to be asking. Mihnea didn't appreciate being put on the spot like this and his face twisted up into a scowl. "I intend to take up my family's business." he said simply.

His head of house snorted. "Your family must be involved in some highly esoteric pursuits then." he said with a sneer.

Mihnea just clenched his jaw and glared across the desk at him. It was all he could do not to tear into the man. Snape was sticking his nose into things that were none of his business and he didn't like it one bit. Several long moments passed with him refusing to speak. Snape seemed to realize that his approach wasn't working and switched tactics. He blew a long, deliberate breath out through his nostrils, then sat back in his chair.

"**This**." he said, tapping his finger on the parchment bearing his class choices. "Isn't the sort of thing one sees from someone preparing for their future. It is a list of subjects which can be easily hidden or explained away as being strictly philosphical in nature to someone without an in-depth knowledge of magic. If the presence of courses in useful, practical magic would cause trouble for you at home, I can arrange for an alternate schedule to be sent so that your parents won't be aware of what you're really taking."

The boy had to fight to keep his mouth from dropping open in disbelief. "**Excuse** me?" he demanded. "Why?"

Snape looked at him meaningfully. "It doesn't happen often, but there are times when such things prove necessary... for a student's protection."

_Protection?_ He repeated mentally. Mihnea could see where this was going. The professor had gotten it into his head that he was some weak, snivelling mess of a boy who was horribly abused or something. Just the idea that someone would think that pissed him off more than words could express. Unwilling to sit there and listen to such nonsense, he shoved himself up out of his seat.

"I'm not having this conversation." he declared.

He turned to march toward the door, but Snape's fearsome voice called out from behind him.

"Don't you **dare** turn your back on me, Mihnea Bassarab." he commanded. "I haven't given you permission to leave."

It was spoken harshly enough to make him stop and turn back around, but he didn't return to his seat. Snanpe was now on his feet as well - having jumped up in preparation to follow in case he stormed out. He was obviously upset, but it appeared to be directed more toward Mihnea's lack of cooperation than the boy himself. The man studied him intently, then thrust a finger out at him.

"Roll up your sleeves."

Mihnea's eyes narrowed. "No."

Snape scowled and moved around the desk to stride toward him. Before he had a chance to move away, the professor roughly grabbed his left arm and shoved up the shirt sleeve, revealing the scars Granger had left months ago. His dark eyes sparked with anger when he saw them.

"These weren't here at the beginning of the year." he said, tightening his grip on the boy's wrist. "What happened?"

"None of your damn business." Mihnea hissed at him. "Get your hands off of me."

The Potions Master's eyes continued to bore into him but when he jerked his arm away, Mihnea felt him loosen his grip. You couldn't call something like that 'letting go', but he did make it easier to escape the hold. The man's expression was difficult to read. Caught somewhere between extreme irritation and something akin to worry. Or concern, rather. 'Worry' was too soft a work to be used in relation to Severus Snape. There was also a glint of understanding. As if he were seeing something in the boy's actions that he sympathized with no matter how much it set him off. He stepped back and took a breath to calm himself, but when he spoke again his voice was low and filled with the same degree of purpose.

"I have seen and done too much to not recognize what's going on here." he said slowly. His face shifted to a look that Mihnea imagined was the closest Snape could get to a pleading expression. "Mihnea, you are a remarkable student with talent in many different areas. You could follow any path of your choosing and excel beyond all others. That's a rare gift for a person to have. I **will not** sit back and watch you throw your life away because someone else is holding you back. I want to help you, but I can't do that unless you start talking to me."

Mihnea was struck that he thought so highly of him. His head of house rarely gave such glowing praise. But the fact that it came out in the midst of an argument made the feeling almost bittersweet. He couldn't let himself fall into a trap baited with kind words. He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What I choose to do with my life is **my** decision, not yours." he told him. "And there's nothing to talk about."

"Don't lie to me, boy!" Snape said, growing upset again. "You have been **tortured**. You've all but admitted it before, but refuse to say who's responsible. In all the years I've known you, you've always restlessly stalked the castle at all hours of the night due to your insomnia. You brood incessantly and are easily agitated when disturbed. That alone is cause for concern - even without these mysterious scars that keep appearing on you." his tone became more insistent and he reached out to take hold of his shoulders. "Let me help you, Mihnea. I have been where you are now and I know what it's like."

The boy grit his teeth in frustration. "You do **not** kno..."

"Yes, I **do**." the man interrupted. "My father was a terrible wretch of a muggle who despised anything to do with magic. He was fond of flying into drunken rages and attempted to beat it out of me and my mother. I was able to get away once I was old enough, but I watched my mother suffer under his constant torment until the day she died. She was too proud and stubborn to leave the sorry bastard. When I look at you, I see traces of myself when I was your age. I tried to manage everything on my own and wound up making horrible mistakes that I have to live with for the rest of my life. You have too much potential to wind up that way. You have my confidence, so you don't have to hide things away or pretend they aren't there. **Please** talk to me."

"I'm not running or hiding from anything!" Mihnea exclaimed. He jerked himself out of the man's grip. "You see what you **want** to see, professor, not what's really there. What good would it be for me to talk to you? You've got everything figured out already, don't you? If I said anything that ran contrary to this rediculous explantion you've cooked up, you would think it was lie." he stepped forward and shoved a finger into Snape's face, feeling a new wave of ire rise up. "You think you know me so well, but you don't know the first thing about me. So thanks for the offer and the sob story, but I don't need or want your help. I know how to take care of myself."

The Potions Master's eyes narrowed. "I suggest you check the attitude and watch your tone of voice, Mr. Bassarab." he warned.

The threat made him want to laugh. "What are you going to do, Professor? Take points away from me?" Mihnea asked. "Do it! Take every last one of the bleeding things away! I didn't want them in the first place. You don't give a damn about me or anyone else. All you care about is making yourself and Slytherin house look good. That's the only reason you gave me such an obnoxious reward for fighting Black. Now, maybe you need to bask in the spotlight to feel better about yourself, but I **dont**. I'm **not** an attention whore and I don't want fame, glory, and masses of women falling at my feet. I liked being left alone and having my privacy. Then **you** had to screw it all up by putting me into a position where I am constantly harrassed. Next time I do something you think you can use to your advantage, go pin it on someone else and turn them into your poster child to compete with Potter. I won't be a part of your childish popularity contests."

If Snape wasn't riled up before, he certainly was now. The man squared his shoulders and straighted his posture to rise up to his full height. An unconsious attempt to indimidate by making himself look bigger. Seeing as how Mihnea was several inches taller and could still look down at him, it didn't do much good.

"Are you **insulting** me, Mr. Bassarab?" he asked in a very low, deadly sounding voice.

"I'm calling it like I see it." Mihnea replied with a sniff. "You are my teacher, sir, and I'll admit you're a damn good one. But you're still my teacher. You aren't my father, you aren't my therapist, and you are not my friend. So why don't you stick to what you're good at? Do your job as my teacher, and keep your nose **out** of my personal life."

With that he turned around to walk out of the office. However, before he reached the door, Professor Snape marched up and grabbed him, forcefully whirled him around, then twisted up the front of his shirt in his fist.

"If you even **think** about walking away from me, detention will be the least of your worries!" he threatened.

Mihnea arched a brow. He hadn't been planning on pulling this out unless provoked, but now seemed an excellent time for it. "If you try to punish me for walking away from you, I will report you to the Ministry of Magic for multiple offenses of using restricted magic on students without their consent."

The man knew exactly what he was talking about and was smart enough not to deny it. His eyes only narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

"I don't make threats, Professor. I make promises." he replied. "And unlike most people in this world, I don't make promises I don't intend to keep. You've seen for yourself what I've done to students who mess with me. All of that was just... mild irritation. You haven't seen what I'm capable of when I get truly angry. You're used to dealing with children and teenagers who can't play games on your level. I assure you, I can. I know for a fact that you've used Legilimency on Constance before, and you've been trying to use it on me for most of this conversation. You should know by now that it doesn't work on me. But if you **ever** try to snoop around in my cousin's head again, I will have your job and make damn sure you'll never have another anywhere else." he paused to glance down at the hand that was holding him. "Now, **Let**. **Me**. **Go**."

For a moment, the two of them just stared each other down. Snape's nostrils were flaring, he was so angry. Anyone else may have been intimidated or frightened by the prospect, but he wasn't. Mihnea would have thought less of him if he were able to scare him. Yet, the professor could also see that he was serious and would follow through with the threat if he were forced to. A brief flicker of something passed through his eyes. Respect, Mihnea recognized. Even with him being so enormously pissed, the Potions Master still respected him for standing up to him. He wasn't really sure why. Maybe he was so used to students cowering to him that he appreciated someone who had the balls to put their foot down. Very slowly, his fingers unclenched themselves and released his shirt. The moment he was free, Mihnea smoothed his hand down over the wrinkled fabric, let out a snort, then turned on his heel and left.

* * *

><p>The boy found himself saddled with a foul mood for the remainder of the afternoon. Getting into heated arguments with his fellow students was one thing, but to have one with a teacher was an entirely different matter. Not that he felt bad about how he handled it. Mihnea had meant every word he said and wouldn't change a thing if he had it to do over. Nor was he particularly worried about the outcome. Oh, he imagined Snape would be pissy and give him hell for a while, but he could deal with that. But the thought crossed his mind that he should probably write home about it. Given the man's suspicions about his parents, Mihnea didn't think his head of house would write to them. However, if Dumbledore caught wind of what happened, he very well might. Thinking that it would be in his best interests for them to hear it from him first rather than a teacher, the boy wrote out a letter. In it, he gave a brief description of what the conflict had been about and his response to it. Basically giving them a heads up to not be surprised if they heard he was now on the man's bad side, but assuring them he'd made certain that he wouldn't be in serious trouble. He snuck out to the owlrey to to send it off with Archimedes. As he watched the bird fly away with the missive in his beak, the boy tried to imagine what their reactions would be. His mother would probably be upset about him blackmailing one of his professors. His dad, on the other hand, would most likely laugh at how ludicrous it all was, then ask why he hadn't come up with something worse.<p>

With that bit of business out of the way, Mihnea fell back into his thoughts. Brooding like his head of house claimed he did so much. It would have been nice to escape to his favorite haunt and get away from the world for a while, but reality stood in the way. There was an Astronomy class scheduled for the second years that night. The boy remained in the tower studying the heavens for as long as he dared before leaving to search for a different place to hole up in. He didn't care where it was, so long as it was far from his dormitory. With the state he was in, Mihnea didn't like the idea of being cooped up in an underground dungeon. He wasn't sure what drew him there, but he somehow found himself in Professor Lupin's office. The waxing moon had the man in the hyper stage of his cycle, so he was still awake and working on various things for this classes. It was approaching midnight and was well past curfew, so Lupin had every right to send him away or report him for being up late. But apparently he could either tell from Mihnea's expression that he was in a bad mood, or he didn't take issue with having company. Maybe it was a bit of both. Whatever it was, the man let him come inside and curl up in the window seat while he finished with his work.

Mihnea had gone back to staring out at the night sky when he felt something cold and hard gently tap against his forehead. He glanced up to find Lupin extending a chilled butterbeer out toward him. One of his brows rose at the sight of the bottle and he looked up at the man holding it.

"I never knew you were the sort to give alcohol to a student, sir." he commented.

Lupin gave a light shrug in response. "I've never seen the harm in having a drink or two. Especially something so mild." he admitted. "It looks to me like you could use it."

The boy considered his words, then glanced back at the drink dangling in front of his face.  
>"No, thanks." he said, raising a hand to gently push it away. "I don't like the stuff. I've got something coming anyway."<p>

The man withdrew the offered beverage and stepped back to study him curiously. Probably wondering what on earth he meant by that. But as he opened his mouth to question him about it, they both heard a peculiar scratching sound coming from the door. Mihnea looked over as it swung inward, revealing a brief vision of Pixie balancing on her hind legs. She must have stood up like that to work the doorknob. The feline dropped back down on all fours and turned to grab the shoulder strap of one of his bags between her teeth to drag it over. The boy shot a reproachful look down at her when she reached the window he was sitting in.

"Where have you been?" he snapped.

He had sent a mental command for her to bring him blood more than an hour ago. He didn't have to search through the animal's mind to figure out what she'd been doing. Snooping around in the kitchens begging the house elves for food, most likely. Pixie dropped the strap in her mouth and slumped, giving him a quiet, embarrassed sounding meow of apology. Mihnea rolled his eyes and crooked a finger.

"Get up here, then."

The cat leapt up to perch in the window with him, while the boy leaned down to grab the bag. He fished out one of the blood bottles and unscrewed the lid to start drinking. Lupin seemed far more interested in the animal's appearance than in what Mihnea was doing.

"You can communicate with animals." he said.

It sounded like more of a comment than a question, so Mihnea only looked up and shrugged his shoulders. Lupin arched a brow at him and walked over to push the door closed again.

"Why am I not surprised to find you have a cat the size of a cocker spaniel?" he asked in an almost playful tone. He came back to his desk to turn his chair around so it was facing him. Opening up the bottle of butterbeer to drink it himself, Lupin sat back down. "Dare I ask where you manage to get that? Supposing it is what I think it is."

Mihnea blinked at him, then realized he was referring to the blood he was drinking. "It's donated." he replied. "I get care packages from home so I don't run out. It... helps me calm down."

"Ah." the professor said, accepting his answer. He crossed one leg over the other and took a swig from his own bottle. "Judging from your absence during dinner and Professor Snape's unusually foul mood this afternoon, I assume something must have happened between you."

_Assume._ The boy repeated internally. He'd always found that to be a funny sort of word. He cleared his throat.

"My mom says it's dangerous to do that." he said idly. "Assuming things makes an ass out of you and me."

The play on words made the man chuckle. "Your mother sounds like a very wise woman." he complimented with a smile. Lupin swung his bottle out in a wide gesture. "Let's call it an educated guess then."

The teasing nature of the amendment succeeded in lightening the mood, but it didn't change the fact that Mihnea would rather not think about it. He readjusted himself more comfortably in the window (he now had a thirty-seven pound cat laying in lap, after all) and sipped at his blood.

"We had a disagreement." he offered.

Lupin quirked a brow as he sat back to study him. "It must have been a serious one if it's sent you into such a dark mood."

Mihnea thought that was a rather succinct way of putting it.

"He thinks I'm abused."

He wasn't sure what the man was expecting to hear, but that obviously wasn't it. Lupin gave him a really odd look.

"Are you?" he asked.

The question made the boy's muscles go stiff in protest. "Do I **look** abused to you?" he demanded.

His words came out harsher than he intended and Lupin quickly raised both hands in a calming gesture.

"It's only a question." he assured him. "You were the one to point out the danger of making assumptions. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that when it comes to things like abuse or neglect, it is often extremely difficult to tell just by looking."

Mihnea sobered and forced himself to calm down. Lupin had a point. And it was nice that the man actually came out and asked rather than jumping to conclusions like Snape had. He blew out a long sigh and shook his head.

"The relationship I have with my parents isn't exactly normal, but they've never been abusive." he told him.

"I see." Lupin said with nod. "Well, I can certainly understand how your family dynamic might be a **bit** different from the average person's." He gave him an understanding smile, then his expression shifted to a more considering one. "If you don't mind my asking, what on earth gave Severus that idea?"

The boy's brows furrowed together in irritation. "Apparently he's worried about me brooding all the time, being easily agitated, and staying up late at night."

The man sitting before him looked even more confused by that. "How odd." he said. "I would think Severus would know better after teaching for so many years. It's not at all unusual for a teenager to be moody or take to brooding. I believe I'd be worried about a student who **didn't** do that from time to time. And you certainly aren't the only night owl in this castle. Abuse is an awfully large conclusion to jump to with so little evidence."

He spoke the last bit in such a way that there was a silent question lingering in the air. Even his expression became meaningful. Lupin was asking what else Snape had noticed that he hadn't told him about yet. Mihnea had deliberately left out the Potions Master's fixation on his scars. He had just been bitten in the ass by the mistake of trusting his head of house, so he was naturally leery of doing the same thing again. Lupin had always been trustworthy in the past, but some things never came easily. Mihnea took a long deep breath.

"It's really my fault." he admitted. "I... asked Professor Snape to help me with something last year and I wound up showing him something I shouldn't have."

Lupin's head cocked sideways a bit and a small glimmer of concern rose into his eyes. He studied his face intently for a moment, then glanced back toward the closed door.

"I won't push you into telling me anything you aren't comfortable with." he told him sincerely. "But you know very well that when the door to this office is closed, nothing said inside this room leaves."

Mihnea closed his eyes and nodded. He hadn't forgotten about that little safety net of a rule. Pixie sensed the uneasiness growing within him and sat up in his lap to bat a paw at his face. The boy gently prodded her into stopping, told her he was fine, then placed a hand on top of her head. How strange was that? Taking strength and comfort from the presence of a cat. In the midst of all this, Lupin sat patiently in his chair. He remained very quiet, waiting for him to make a decision about whether he would talk or not. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, Mihnea cleared his throat.

"Do you... know very much about the Great War?" he questioned. "What happened on the muggle side, I mean."

Lupin sat back in bewilderment. Given the subject of their conversation, the question did sound out of place.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm not heavily involved with muggle society so I'm afraid I don't have an in-depth knowledge about it." he replied. "I was a little preoccupied with what was going on in the magical world at the time. But I am aware of the basic facts of the Great War." the man paused to twirl his hand in the air before him. "Insane Nazi vampires trying to take over the muggle world and the like?"

Well, it had been more complicated than that, but even if Lupin only knew that much, it was sufficient to meet Mihnea's needs.

"That was the main gist of it, yeah." the boy said, then readjusted his posture to sit up straight. "Before the 'official' war started, there were dozens of things going on behind the scenes. Things no one ever knew about - and most still don't. The Nazis were looking for anything to make themselves more powerful. Things they would be able to use in their armies. I was..." Mihnea hesistated for a moment, torn over whether he should use the word floating around in his head, then decided there were still some things he wasn't ready to reveal. "**Born** around that time. We don't really know how the Nazis managed to figure all this out and do what they did, but my father is a very powerful vampire and my mother is... very talented with magic. A human/vampire hybrid like me has never existed before, so the Nazis thought that if they could find some way of controlling me, they could... use me."

His professor went very still and stared at him in disbelief. "Please tell me you're not serious." he said in a quiet voice.

Mihnea tried to swallow down the weight that was climbing into his throat. "I'm very serious, sir." he told him. "They took me and they... performed all these experiments and surgeries... trying to put these... **things** in me that would let them control my mind. They never put me to sleep or gave me drugs... everything was done while I was wide awake and strapped down to a table. And inbetween all the experiments they did, they would shove a tube down my throat, hook me up to all these machines, then... stick me down in a **tiny** little vat of water to keep me out of the way." he took a breath and noticed his hands were shaking. Mihnea clenched them into fists to make it stop. "Nothing they did ever worked, but... I still have this."

Without offering an explanation for what he was doing, the boy pushed himself up out of the window seat and turned around. His tie was pulled loose, then rather than fussing with all the buttons, Mihnea simply gathered up the fabric of the back of his shirt to lift it - displaying his back. He only held it up for a few seconds before dropping it back down and turning around. Lupin had scooted to the edge of his seat, looking absolutely horrified by the tale and the scars proving it was true.

"Good God in heaven, boy!" he exclaimed. "**How** are you still alive?" he asked.

"I don't really know." Mihnea admitted. "I was only a few months old when it happened. My dad managed to track them down and found me in one of their facilities. He says I survived because I have his vampiric spirit for violence tempered by my mother's fiery human heart."

Something about the statement made one corner of Lupin's mouth turn up in a ghost of a smile. "What a poetic description." he commented. He went back to studying him with that intent, searching expression of his. The man carefully cleared his throat. "Forgive me for saying so, but I have the feeling that there's a lot more to this story of yours than you're saying."

He should have known he would pick up on that. Lupin was a very perceptive sort of person who often noticed tiny things that no one else ever saw.

"There is." he said very slowly. "No offense, sir, but I'd rather not talk about it. I'm... just not ready."

Lupin pressed his lips together in a firm line and nodded. "No offense taken." he assured him, holding up a hand. "That's more than fair." With that, he allowed himself to relax enough to scoot backwards to sit in his chair properly. "Going from how Professor Snape is acting now, I gather you showed your scars to him without explaining where they came from?"

Mihnea sniffed and allowed himself to drop back down on the window seat. "I told him it happened when I was very young and my parents had nothing to do with it." he reported. "I think he might have believed it for a while. But..." he shoved a hand back through his hair. "I had a freak accident while I was home a few months ago and my arm wound up getting hurt pretty bad. It's fine now, but I had to keep it hidden so no one could see how fast it healed. Snape found out about it somehow and now he thinks that I was lying to him before." his hands balled up into fists and he clenched his teeth together. "I screwed up and I **never** should have showed him anything. Now I'm stuck in a place where I can't do anything to fix it. I would either be telling him way too much, or give him an explanation he thinks is lie. Do you know how **frustrating **that is? I have to stand there, looking my head of house in the face, knowing that he believes my parents are torturing me and trying to prevent me from learning useful magic. I'll be the first to admit that my mom and dad are **far** from saints, but if it weren't for them, I would be dead right now. Or trapped with the damn Nazis until they figured out how to turn me into a mindless monster. I owe them everything, so I **wont** sit back and listen to the insults. Not when I can't do anything about it..."

His speech had become hurried and pressured, so Lupin held up his hands to stop him. "Mihnea, calm down." he instructed. "I understand your frustration, truly I do. But... as misguided as Severus' actions are, it sounds as though his intentions are good. He thinks highly enough of you to be concerned for your welfare. There aren't many people in this world he cares for that much, so that's quite an accomplishment. You should be proud - and **thankful** - for it." he picked up the butterbeer, which had been set aside and forgotten for a while, to take a sip. "If you don't mind my asking, why is it that you refuse to talk to him about things like this? You don't like Professor Snape?"

Mihnea found the question odd. "I like him just fine." he replied. "He's a brilliant man and I respect him as a teacher. But that doesn't mean that I trust him." he waved toward Lupin. "Look at what he's doing to you. He's been throwing clues out to people about what you are for as long as you've been here just hoping someone will figure it out."

"Ah, but I am a member of the enemy house, if you recall." the man pointed out. "Severus has never held a high regard for Gryffindors and has always taken it upon himself to get them into trouble. You, on the other hand, are a Slytherin. Not only a member of his own house, but one of his favorite students. That makes a great deal of difference. I believe that none of his... 'disapproval', lets say, of me would apply to you." When he saw the boy's face darken at the thought of what he was suggesting, he went on. "That isn't to say I think you should go spilling all your secrets to him, of course. But considering Professor Snape's personal history and the type of students normally sorted into his house... I believe he would understand the notion of someone having to be careful about how much they tell other people."

The boy furrowed his brow. "You honestly think that would make him leave me alone?"

"I didn't say that." Lupin countered. "Only that he would understand. And I've noticed you have a remarkable tendancy for stubbornness, so I can't imagine how you'd be unable to resist if he chose to continually hound you about it."

Mihnea huffed out a breath of air and slumped. That sounded like a pleasant way of saying that Snape wasn't going to act any different and he would just have to deal with it. Not the greatest thing in the world to hear. But then, he supposed he should be grateful that the professor didn't attempt to fill his head with unrealistic expectations. He grabbed his blood bottle to drink down the last few swallows, then set it back down to peer at him.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're saying a lot of awfully nice things about a man who hates your guts." he commented.

Lupin shifted slightly in his seat, and Mihnea noticed an odd look in his eyes. Like a mixture of thoughtfullness and regret.

"Let's just say that when it comes to Severus' personal feelings about me, I don't think they're entirely unwarranted." he said.

The boy could only blink at him in surprise. He really thought Snape had a good reason to treat him the way he did? "What?"

The man let out a tired sounding sigh. "We were in school together." he told him, beginning his story. "Severus was one of those students you would call an 'oddball'. Very intellectual and interested in weird things - especially the dark arts - but physically and socially awkward. An easy target for bullying. James and Sirius tortured him relentlessly from the moment we met him on the train first year. Peter, God rest his soul, was afraid of doing anything on his own but he generally followed along with whatever they did. I like to think I didn't treat him as badly as they did, but... well, they were the only friends I had, and I wasn't terribly mature as a teenager myself. I may not have been the one to cast all the hexes and jinxes, but I did join in with laughing at him and I never tried to make them stop - even when it felt like I should. I've come to regret my behavior back then and I have apologized to Severus many times. He has every right in the world to not forgive me. There are some things that 'I'm sorry' wont fix, no matter how sincerely it's said."

_Oh... _Mihnea thought. So Professor Snape had been bullied by Lupin's group of friends? That shed some light on why there was animosity between them. But he sensed that the grudge Snape bore against Lupin went far beyond something provoked by childhood teasing.

"It still seems a little overkill for him to him to have it out for you as much as he does." the boy said. "Just about everyone gets picked on at some point while they're in school."

Lupin shook his head. "I don't think you understand just how cruel we were to him." he said. "As I said, I tried to stay out of it for the most part, but James once stole Severus' schoolbooks and discovered that his father was a muggle. He took it upon himself to announce it to the entire school. Being a Slytherin yourself, I'm sure you're aware of how much importance your house places on blood purity. Back then - and I see it still occuring today - Slytherins who weren't purebloods had to hide their heritage to avoid being ostracized and beaten by their fellow house members for making the rest of them 'look bad'. I'm sure Snape caught hell for it. Not only that, but Sirius once played a prank on him that could have cost him his life."

Mihnea's eyes widened. "What happened?"

"Well, my friends weren't the only ones who noticed the odd habits I had due to my 'condition'." the man told him. "Severus picked up on them as well, and since I was a member of the group who gave him so much grief, I believe he was set upon figuring out what was going on to get all of us in trouble. The wolfsbane potion didn't exist back then, so Dumbledore set up a place for me to go during my transformations so I wouldn't be a danger to anyone. Sirius waited until a full moon then told Snape where he could find me, knowing he would be unable to resist the temptation. Now, when I transform, all semblance of my human mind disappears and I can't control my actions. I don't remember what happened myself, but I was told later that Severus saw me as a werewolf and I tried to attack him. Thankfully, James heard what Sirius had done and thought he had gone too far. He came and got Severus away from me before I was able to do anything to him. If James hadn't gotten involved, I very well could have killed him or infected him without knowing what I was doing. Once I was human again, I was so angry at Sirius I didn't speak to him for weeks."

"Wait." Mihnea said, holding up his hands. "Sirius Black did something that could have gotten Snape killed and you found out as a werewolf, and you still considered him a **friend**?" he demanded. "And everyone is **surprised** that he betrayed Potter's parents to Voldemort?"

Lupin actually winced. "All I can say in my defense is that we were young and foolish." he said mournfully. "Sirius had a habit of doing incredibly stupid things without thinking of the consequences. He thought it would be a smashing bit of fun to give Severus a good scare - not stopping to think of what I could have done to him, or what would have happened to me if Dumbledore hadn't sworn Snape to secrecy afterward. I suppose we should have taken that as a warning sign, but we didn't. That particular stunt was the worse thing Sirius had ever done and once we all calmed down and forgave him for it, we considered it an isolated incident." he sighed deeply and looked down at the floor, running a hand back through his hair. "You don't know how much I've beaten myself up over all the things I should have noticed but didn't think were important until after James and Lily were dead. And poor Peter... he never would have stood a chance. They weren't the only ones Sirius betrayed. Sometimes I think they had the easier fate. They don't have to live with the torment of knowing they trusted someone who would turn and stab them in the back."

This time it was Mihnea's turn to wince. That was a terrible burden to have to live with. Maybe it was easy to say there were things about Black that should have sent up red flags of warning, but hindsight was twenty/twenty. It could be difficult to make judgements like that in the moment. He tried to think of the best thing to say in response, then decided it was probably better to stay quiet. So he simply sat with a frown on his face, absentmindedly scratching between his cat's ears.

"What was the freak accident?"

The boy blinked at the sound of Lupin's voice and peered at him in confusion. "What?"

"You said you were injured in a freak accident while you were home." the man reminded him, making a small gesture toward his arm. "What happened? If you don't mind my knowing, that is."

_Oh_. He thought. He'd half forgotten he'd told him that. Mihnea reached up to rub the back of his head. "It's kind of embarrassing." he admitted. "And you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Lupin's eyes glittered with interest and one of his brows rose challengingly. "Try me."

Well... he supposed if he left out any identifying information, it wouldn't hurt anything to tell him. Mihnea cleared his throat.

"I was trying to rescue a damsel in distress." he said. He noticed the man's eyebrow travel a notch higher and went on. "She was... being roughed up and threatened by some assholes, so I stepped in and took care of them. Once they were gone, I went to check on her. But I didn't communicate my intentions very well so she thought I was one of them and she had gotten her hands on a knife..." he let his words trail off. "I'll leave the rest to your imagination, but it wasn't pleasant. It was like being tackled by a rabid wildcat from hell."

Lupin continued to stare at him. The change was a slow one, but his expression gradually shifted to one of amusement. Finally, it seemed that he couldn't hold back any longer and he burst out laughing.

"A rabid wildcat from hell?" he repeated between deep chuckles. "That's the most apt description of an angry woman I've ever heard! I hope she was a pretty girl. If she gave you hell, that would at least make it worth it."

Mihnea shrugged. "Not in a conventional way, I guess you could say that." he said. "And this might sound weird, but I personally thought she was a hell of a lot prettier **after** she tried to hack my arm off."

That made the man laugh even more. "Perhaps to someone else it would be strange, but I know **exactly** what you mean." he said, grinning meaningfully. "There is something about a girl willing to violently defend herself that is deeply attractive in an almost primal sort of way." he paused for a moment to tap his finger against his chin. "It's almost sad this happened while you were at home, so I'm not able to ask if this mysterious girl is anyone I know."

_Let him keep thinking that. _The boy mused. He arched a brow at the playful change in atmosphere.

"Now, Professor, if it were someone you knew, what makes you think I would tell you?" he asked.

"Oh, so you're going to be **coy** about it?" Lupin teased. "I see how it... what's wrong?"

All pretense of their lighthearted conversation immediately dropped when Mihnea bolted upright in alertness. He had caught the scent of something that shouldn't be there.

"Potter's here." he said in a low voice.

Lupin straightened and turned to look back toward the door. "Harry? You're sure?"

The boy nodded. "Not in the classroom. but close." he ammended. "About eighty feet or so, that way." he pointed a finger toward the wall to indicate which hallway. His brows furrowed as he identified the smell of a second person. "Snape is closing in on him."

That didn't bode well. The Potions Master was already in a temper after his argument with Mihnea, and Potter always seemed to set him off no matter what the circumstances were. When he caught the young Gryffindor out after curfew, the outcome wouldn't be pretty. Lupin knew it too.

"It sounds like Harry might be in need of a rescue." he said as he pushed himself up from his seat. "Stay put. I'll be back."

Mihnea nodded and watched as he left the room to go check it out. The distance and number of stone walls in the way made it impossible for him to hear what was going on, but he knew there would be a conflict once Snape and Potter encountered each other. What the hell was he doing out so late anyway? Not that he had any room to preach at someone for being out after curfew, but Harry was the last person who should be wandering around alone. Especially with Black having gotten inside the castle not that long ago.

He had no idea how long the boy had been out of his dormitory, but he imagined that his friends would know soon - if they didn't already. Connie, at the very least, would notice. After their parents had come to search the grounds for Black, they had given them instructions to keep an eye on Potter since they were the only members of Hellsing who could remain at Hogwarts long term. His cousin took the order seriously. If she discovered that he had managed to sneak out under her nose, she'd probably freak smooth out. Hoping to avoid any rash action on her part, Mihnea quickly dug a quill and scrap of parchment out of his bag. He penned a brief note informing her of what he knew, then folded it up and tucked it securely under Pixie's collar.

"Take this to Connie." he told her. "Be quick about it, and mind the trolls. And you stay there with her and dont let any of them leave until Potter gets back, understand?"

Pixie gave him an intelligent meow of understanding and jumped down from the window to fulfill her mission. She was gone less than five minutes when Mihnea finally picked up on audible voices. Lupin must have brought Potter back to the classroom with him. And the man didn't sound very happy.

"I don't know where you managed to get this map, but frankly, I am **astounded** that you didn't hand it in."

"But, sir!" Harry's voice protested. "I..."

"No 'buts'." Lupin interrupted. "Harry, do you not realize that this in the hands of Sirius Black is a map directly to you? Now, I don't intend to cover for you again, do you understand? I want you to go straight up to your dormitory this instant. And no taking any detours. If you do, I shall know about it."

It sounded like the professor considered the conversation over at that point. But after a few seconds, Potter's voice spoke out again in a softer, more resigned tone.

"Professor? Just so you know, I don't think that map always works. I saw something on it earlier... the name of a man I know to be dead."

"Oh? And who would that be?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

There was a long stretch of silence. When Professor Lupin spoke again, there was a pronounced note of uneasiness present in his voice. "That's not possible."

"I'm only telling you what I saw." Harry told him. "Goodnight, sir."

Mihnea heard Potter's footsteps trail off, but Lupin remained downstairs long after the boy had left. When he finally came back up to the office, he looked more disturbed and upset than he had ever seen him before. He tossed a thick, folded piece of parchment onto his desk and thrust a finger at it. Mihnea recognized it as being the enchanted map Fred and George had given to Harry during that first trip to Hogsmeade.

"You knew about this?"

Yep, Lupin was seriously ticked off. Mihnea figured the man already knew the answer to his question and he had no desire to find out what would happen if he got caught in a lie.

"I might have known about it, yeah." he admitted.

The professor's eyes narrowed and his face twisted into a fierce scowl. "And you didn't think to **tell** anyone?" he demanded.

Mihnea stiffened defensively. "Why would I?" he asked. "I don't get invovled in other people's business unless it affects me. It seemed to me that a map showing the location of everyone in the castle would be a handy thing for him to have with Black looking for him. Potter might not make the best decisions, but he's not stupid enough to leave something that valuable laying around where anyone could find it."

Right then and there, he got the impression that Lupin wanted to give him a serious lecture, but was holding himself back from doing so. He only huffed in frustration and dropped unceremoniously into his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face before bringing it down to cover his mouth, glaring pointedly at the folded up map.

"It is **not** possible." he muttered forcefully.

Mihnea stared at him. Professor Lupin didn't act this way. Seeing him looking so disturbed and out of sorts was worrisome. He couldn't tell if he was angry at Harry, him, or something else entirely.

"Sir?" he questioned carefully.

The man blinked as if he momentarily forgot that Mihnea was there, then dropped his hand from his face to peer at him. "It's getting late." he said in a tired voice. "I think it's time you went off to bed."

He was going to dismiss him just like that? That made the whole thing that much odder. Not wanting to push the matter and find out what Lupin was like when he got truly upset, Mihnea dropped any thought of questioning him and grabbed his things.

Something strange had just happened, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was.

* * *

><p>"Harry James Potter!" Hermione screeched. "What the <strong>devil<strong> did you think you were doing sneaking off by yourself?"

When Harry got back to the Gryffindor common room, he was immediately met by the anxious expressions and furious questioning of Ron, Hermione, and Constance. They weren't sure of exactly when he had left, but Ron woke up from a nightmare and noticed Harry wasn't in his bed. He had gone downstairs to look for him, then woke up the girls to see if they knew where he was. It was rather surprising how he managed it, as well. The stairs leading up to the girls dormitory were warded to prevent boys from coming up, so he had enchanted one of his gobstones to bounce up them and find their room to get their attention. Hermione noticed it first and shook Connie awake. They both were struck by the sheer creativity of the solution he'd come up with. Not that Ron was stupid or incapable... he'd just never done anything like it before.

When Ron told them about Harry being missing, the girls were shocked senseless. Had Black found a way past the trolls and snatched the boy without waking anyone up? Or perhaps he had somehow lured him out of the dormitories to make the job easier. Of course, it was also possible that Harry had simply gone out somewhere alone, but **surely** he would know better than that. After everything that happened, Constance would have thought he would at least tell someone what he was doing before running off. They had to do something about this. If anything happened to Harry on her watch, Connie would never forgive herself.

The three of them were preparing to leave to report the situation to professor McGonagall so a search could be mounted when Pixie showed up with a message from Mihnea. God love him, he must have known they would be worried sick when they discovered Harry wasn't where he should be. The letter said that the boy had been out wandering the hallways and was found by Snape. Lupin was going to get involved to keep the Potions Master from doing anything too awful to him. It wasn't much information to go on, but at least they could set their thoughts of torture and murder to the side.

By the time Harry returned, their worry and concern for his safety had disintegrated into ire over him doing something so incredibly foolish. Even Ron, who usually sided with Harry on matters like this, joined the girls in lecturing him.

"For God's sake guys, I said I was sorry!" Harry exclaimed. "Will you calm down? Nothing happened." he focused on Hermione, who was giving him considerably hell more than the other two. "And since when did you turn into my mother?"

"Since you started acting like you **needed** one!" she declared, planting her hands on her hips. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you have a brain behind that thick skull of yours."

Ron actually stepped past the girls to grab Harry's shoulders and pull him further into the common room. "Dont **ever** do that to me again, mate." he said. "I think I lost ten years of my life! You could have at least woken someone up to say what you were doing! Do you know how **scary** that is, waking up and seeing you gone without a trace? Bleeding hell, Harry, I've been sleeping with my wand under my pillow every night since Black last broke in, and you had me thinking he'd done it again and got past me!"

Constance's irritation with Harry dropped just long enough for her to stare at the boy. "You sleep with your wand under your **pillow**?"

Hermione appeared equally disturbed by the idea. "For goodness sake, Ronald, don't you know how dangerous that is?" she asked him. "You could snap it in two from moving about or it could go off and set the bed on fire or worse!"

Ron crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. "I don't toss and turn nearly enough to break it." he said resolutely. "And I'd rather accidentally set the bed on fire while I'm asleep than wake up with a lunatic standing over me where I can't get to it!"

It was still a dangerous thing to do, but you couldn't really argue with his logic. Leaving his wand laying on the bedside table hadn't served him very well during the last encounter with Black. Connie sighed and reached up to rub at her temples.

"Anyway, the point is we all know that Black knows how to get into the castle and into this dorm." she said, then pointed toward the portrait hole. "Those God awful trolls are the only thing that's keeping him out now. You sneaking out in the middle of the night, **alone**, is making it that much easier for him to get you!"

Harry's jaw clenched and he glared at her. "What do you suggest I do then?" he asked. "Just go to class then lock myself up in my room until he's caught? That's the same as being in jail and none of you would agree to it."

"Of course not!" she said. "Look, all I'm saying is that we have to be careful what we do now. And **you** have to take into account that things are more dangerous for you than anyone else and that **we** are going to be worried about you whether you like it or not." Constance paused to look at each one of them. "Maybe agreeing to never sneak around after curfew is unreasonable - because I think we all know it's **going** to happen - but... could we at least promise not to do it alone? All of us, not just Harry. At least then if something happened, there would be another person there to watch your back or get help if they had to."

It wasn't as safe as just staying in the dorms all the time would be, but doing things as group was the most realistic option. Ron agreed with the idea, and while Hermione obviously wanted to argue that going out in the first place was stupid, she seemed to realize that it wasn't something they would ever live up to. Even she got pulled into doing things that were against the rules from time to time. Harry was the last to say anything. He tried to argue that he was the target, so them staying with him all the time just increased their chances of getting hurt because of him. Hermione immediately rebuked him for thinking such a thing, saying that they had agreed from the very beginning that they were in this together. He wasn't going to face anything alone, no matter how much he disliked the idea of them being involved. Harry seemed to constantly forget how protective they were of him, and the reminder of their feelings made him back down. From that moment on, they had a pact to make use of the idea of safety in numbers. No one would go out after hours alone, and if possible, they would let the others know so the ones left behind wouldn't freak out about them being missing and do something rash that could needlessly get them in trouble.

"So what were you doing, anyway?" Ron asked as they made their way over to the sitting area.

Harry's face wrinkled up as he slumped down on one of the sofas. "I saw Peter Pettigrew's name on the map." he replied. "But he's dead, so I couldn't figure out why it would be there. I went out to see what might be going on."

That was strange, to say the least. Connie frowned. "Did you find anything?"

"No." the boy replied, shaking his head. "I went down to the hallway where he supposedly was, but I couldn't see anyone there. I mean, according to the map, he was directly in front of me for a long time and walked right on top of me." His brows furrowed with thought. "And the trail on the map was... odd. Usually, it shows people walking in straight lines, but Pettigrew's name was all over the place. Darting back and forth... almost like he were drunk or something. The ghosts here don't show up on the map, and there's no reason why a dead man's name should have been on it. I guess it was just being wonky."

Hermione rested her chin on the back of her hand thoughtfully. "Well... I've heard that some magical objects can weaken or become unpredictable with age." she commented. "We have no way of knowing how old that map really is. There's no telling how long it had been laying in that drawer in Filch's office before Fred and George stole it." she peered at Connie sideways. "And didn't they say they had to experiment to figure out the right words to say to make it work? The smallest change in pronunciation can make a spell go haywire, so they might have accidently said something that damaged the enchantment on it."

"If that's true, then wouldn't it have messed up before now?" Harry questioned. "Fred and George never had any problems with the map, and this is the first time I've noticed it acting weird."

Connie thought about it. "Maybe it's been going on all along and no one ever noticed." she suggested. "I mean, how many people know the names of every person in the castle? If the map is showing the names of dead people, it would be easy to assume they were students in another house or something. You only thought Peter Pettigrew's name being on it was strange because you know he's dead."

The boy blinked at the idea. "Huh. I guess that makes sense..."

Ron shook his head. "So, what happened with Snape?" he asked. "Lupin didn't let him get you in too much trouble, did he?"

Harry gave a noticable start and turned to gape at him. "How did you **know **about that?"

"Uh... Bassarab sent his cat up here with a letter saying where you were and what was going on?" he replied, giving him an odd look. "You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't know! I didn't see Bassarab anywhere!" Harry whirled to narrow his eyes at Connie. "Is he following me around now?"

The girl rolled her eyes in response. "No, Harry, Mihnea doesn't follow you around." she said with a sigh. "He was probably out late like he always is and saw you. Besides, I heard he got into a fight with Snape earlier today, so if he had been following you the whole time he would have done something to help you get away before he found you."

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Had a fight with Snape?" she repeated. "What on earth about? I thought Mihnea was one of his favorites."

Honestly, did they expect her to know everything that went on with her cousin? "I don't **know** what it was about." Constance said firmly. "I just saw Mihnea before supper tonight and he looked angry about something. All he would tell me was that he had a meeting with Snape about signing up for classes next year and the man started sticking his nose where it didn't belong. It could have been anything. But with how upset Mihnea looked about it, it must have gotten pretty nasty."

Harry's eyes widened with realization. "Oh, that must have been why Snape was in such a temper tonight." he commented. "He was in a bad mood when he caught me. Worse than usual, I mean. He made me turn out my pockets and saw the map. I said the words to make it go blank when I heard him coming, so it was fine, but Snape pointed his wand at it and said a spell to try to force it to reveal itself."

Ron leaned forward expectantly. "What happened? It didn't work, did it?"

"No, it didn't work, but the map responded to it." the boy told him. A slow, amused looking grin spread across his face at the memory. "It said that Snape should 'keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business'. He forced me to read it out loud to him, and..." his expression became positively devious. "Well, you can't say no when a professor gives you a direct order, can you?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open at the idea of him openly insulting a teacher to his face, but Ron thought it was hilarious and burst out laughing. Constance personally thought that it sounded like Snape had gotten himself into a 'no-win' situation where he would hear something he didn't like regardless of what he did, so it had been his own fault. Harry then told them the rest of the story. Snape had gotten upset with him after hearing what was revealed on the map and attempted to take it away from him, saying that it was obviously 'full of dark of dark magic'. Professor Lupin then appeared to set things straight. The map wasn't a dark object at all, but a Zonko's product designed to insult anyone who read it, he claimed. However, since **he** was the resident expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts - not professor Snape - he would thoroughly examine the map for anything out of the ordinary. Lupin took the map away from the man, then pulled Harry off to his classroom before Snape could think to give him a detention for being out late.

"I've **never** seen Lupin look so upset before." Harry admitted to them. "He didn't get me in trouble or anything, but he said I had no business having that map because if Sirius Black ever got his hands on it, it would lead him right to me."

Ron winced at the implications of that. "So, what, he kept it then?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, then frowned thoughtfully. "And... it's weird, but I think he knew exactly what that map was. I never said a word about what it did or how to make it work, but when he told me to come back up here, he said he'd know if I took any detours or tried to go somewhere else. When I told him I saw Pettigrew's name on it, he got the oddest look on his face and said it wasn't possible. I mean... he knows he's dead, of course, but how would he have known he wouldn't show up on the map or that he'd be able to track me with it if he didn't know what it was or how to use it?"

Constance sat back and pressed her lips together in a firm line. That **was **really strange. Lupin shouldn't have known anything about that map, unless...

"Well, if Hermione is right and that map had been sitting in Filch's office for a long time, it could be something that Lupin knew about from when he was student." she suggested. "Maybe one of his friends had it at some point and he recognized it. It had to have come from somewhere."

The girl sitting next to her sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I think he was perfectly right to take it away, if you ask me." she said. "After the fiasco with that diary last year, I don't like the idea of having something around that can think for itself without being able to prove where it came from. And if it's in a teacher's possession, you know Black won't get his hands on it."

The boys immediately got upset with her haughty display of attitude and started bickering with her about it, but Constance thought that she might be right. The map didn't behave exactly like the diary had, but it was true that they couldn't be certain where it came from or who made it. Harry wouldn't have the ability to sneak about without knowing who might be around the next corner anymore, but maybe this was for the best.

* * *

><p>A.N: In the real world, genethlialogy is a very specifc and advanced form of astrology. You come up with a chart for a person based on the positions of various heavenly bodies at the exact time of their birth - and that chart would cover damn near everything about that person's life in more detail that you could ever want or need. For the purposes of this story, it would be the study of how to calculate the type and degree of magical influence for any specific moment in time. Basically taking the position of planets, stars, conjunctions, moon phases, cometsmeteors, solar flares, and even weather patterns, adding them all together, then using that to figure out if that month/week/day/hour/minute/second (continuing on ad nauseum) is ideal to perform a certain type of magic.

Why didn't I put that in the chapter itself? Because it would have been too complicated, and I'm lazy. :P


	60. Raindrops

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

Friday morning found Hermione Granger fighting not to drop the massive stack of books in her arms as she raced down the hallway. She was more than forty-five minutes late to class! If she didn't hurry, Charms would be letting out by the time she arrived. Oh, this was positively **dreadful**. How had this happened?

Inside, she knew that asking that question was just a way for her to deny the obvious. Her tardiness was entirely her fault. Hermione had only been half awake when she and Connie gathered up their things for class that morning. The girl had offered to wait for her, but she insisted that she go on down to breakfast. She only had to search for a final book - which she'd set down somewhere the night before but forgot where she'd placed it - and she'd be right along. Hermione wound up having to lay across her bed to search underneath it. She located the tome she was looking for sitting just beyond the dust ruffle but when she moved to pull it out, a wave of exhaustion hit her. Surely, she thought, it would do no harm to simply lay there a moment or two. Not go back to sleep exactly, but only remain in a comfortable position and close her eyes to rest them. But things hadn't played out the way she intended. The girl had fallen right to sleep the second she closed her eyes, and as it usually went when she fell unconscious, the nightmares and horrid visions began almost instantly. Gunshots and blood, shadows and monsters pinning her down to the floor - making it impossible for her to escape as they did the most horrifying things... She woke to the sound of her own ear-peircing scream. Shaking with terror and her body coated with cold sweat, Hermione had to take a moment to remember exactly where she was.

It was when it began to sink in that it had only been a dream that she noticed the clock. She'd not only fallen asleep, but missed breakfast and more than half of her first class of the day! How could she have allowed such a thing? She nearly missed grabbing the stupid book she'd stayed behind for in her rush to leave. Wound up dropping her entire stack of books and papers - twice, no less - as she ran down the steps of Gryffindor tower... Hermione couldn't imagine how things could possibly get worse. But when she finally arrived at the Charms classroom, chest heaving from exertion and hair flying around her face in a mess, she realized it could. Everyone was walking out. Class was already over and she'd missed it. She had **missed** it! Harry and Ron were quietly speaking to each other as they came out into the hallway, but stopped the moment they caught sight of her.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, blinking at her. "Where have you **been**? We thought something terrible must have happened. You never miss class!"

Ron's head bobbed in agreement as he looked her over. "Connie said you were right behind her, but you never came down for breakfast..." he paused and leaned forward in concern. "Are you okay? You look awful."

_Wonderful. _ The girl thought. Now she had her appearance to worry about on top of everything else. She reajusted the books over to one arm so she could reach up to smooth down her wild hair. Goodness, she hadn't even thought to run a brush through it, had she?

"I'm fine." she lied. "I just had a bit of a rough start this morning." When the two boys just gaped at her in response, she huffed and tapped her foot. "I was up late last night working on an essay, so I accidentally fell asleep again after Connie left. It will **not** happen again. Now can we please get a move on? I've just missed one class and I don't intend to be late for another."

Harry and Ron both closed their mouths and quickly moved to keep pace with her as Hermione turned to march off. Divination was next. That was just going to perk her right up, wasn't it? Divination was the one subject she was learning to despise. Professor Trelawney was a complete nitwit and nothing she said ever made sense. Hermione began preparing herself internally for the task of sitting through a lesson that would only serve to make her bad mood worse. They were making their way through one of the fourth floor corridors when she happened to overhear something that made her halt midstep. Malfoy was hanging out outside of one the classrooms with a bunch of his friends and they were all talking and laughing amongst themselves. That alone wasn't worth taking note of. Rather, it was the subject of their conversation and the obnoxious loudness of it. As if Draco were proudly announcing himself to the world and wanted everyone and their mother to hear.

"Yes, that's right." he said in that snooty, overbearing manner of his. "The trial for that bloody chicken is set for this afternoon. No need to wonder what the verdict will be. They'll take one look at the file and sentence the beast to the chopping block! Probably toss Hagrid in jail while they're at it. It's a wonder the bumbling oaf hasn't killed someone yet..."

Hearing those words made Hermione see red. He had **no** right! None at all. Before she fully realized what she was doing, she had dumped all of her books into Ron's arms - which the boy wasn't expecting and nearly dropped in surprise - then marched over to Draco and his huddle of friends, rolling up her sleeves as she went. Malfoy barely had enough time to register she was there before the girl reared back her hand and slapped him in the face as hard she could.

"Shut your **pompus** mouth you lothesome, hateful... **ass**!" Hermione shouted at him. "How **dare** you talk about Hagrid that way? This entire mess is **your fault** because you were too stupid to do as you were told!"

The Slytherins who had been listening to the boy rant all skipped backward, while Draco fell back against the wall. He clutched at his cheek and blinked up at her in shock.

"Granger? Did you just...?" he questioned, sounding like he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. "You **hit **me! Dirty mudbl..."

Hermione had her wand drawn and shoved up under his nose before he could finish the word. "Give me a reason to hex your balls off, Draco Malfoy." she hissed at him. "Go ahead and say it. I **dare** you."

The Slytherin boy's eyes widened, darting down to glance at her wand before coming back up to look at her. The ruddy coward was afraid. _Good._ Hermione thought. He should be afraid of her. If she heard one more foul word spill out of his mouth, she would make him regret it for the rest of his life. It was almost funny how none of his 'friends' made a move to help him. They were too shocked by what they were seeing. As Malfoy began carefully inching to the left to dart inside the nearest classroom to get away from her, Hermione felt someone place a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around to point her wand at the new threat - which gave Draco an opportunity to make a run for it.

Harry immediately held up both hands defensively and jumped back when he saw her wand was now aimed at him. He stared at the tip of the length of wood, then carefully brought his gaze up to meet hers.

"Hermione, please put that down." he said very slowly. Like he were talking to someone he didn't know and thought could be become dangerous. He waited until her wand was lowered to clear his throat. "You're not acting like yourself. Maybe we should take you to Madam Pomfrey..."

The girl blinked at him, then sniffed at the idea. "Absolutely not." she said firmly. "I'm **fine**."

"The hell you are." Ron interjected. He stepped out from behind Harry where he'd been watching the whole thing. "You're acting like you've lost your bleeding mind!"

Hermione immediately raised her wand to point it at him. "What did you say, Ronald?"

The boy's eyes widened and he skipped backward. "Nothing!" he insisted. "Nothing at all!"

She sniffed. "That's what I thought." she said. She roughly snatched her books from his arms and turned to walk off. "Well?" she called out over her shoulder when she noticed they hadn't moved. "Are you coming or not?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other - almost like they were making some sort of decision between themselves - then stepped forward to follow her.

* * *

><p>Divination proved to be just as stupid and irritating as Hermione thought it would be. Professor Trelawney was lecturing them on how to see into the 'Great Beyond' using a crystal ball. The students sat around their tables in groups of three. In the center of each table was a medium sized globe of clear crystal containing a swirling white mist. The woman darting about the room like an insect, bumping into tables and chairs as she went, claimed that recieving a vision was all a matter of opening up the mind. You focused your gaze onto the centermost point of the globe, allowed all thought to drift from your mind, and then you would 'sink into the mist' as she called it. The swirling smoke would change form before you, taking on the shape of symbols which you could then interpret the meaning of. It was the silliest thing Hermione had ever heard. Why, anyone who looked at any sort of smoke or mist long enough would begin seeing things. There was nothing mystical or mysterious about it. It was all a matter of matrixing. The human mind naturally attempted to make sense of the things it saw, so when presented with a random pattern or shape, it would interpret it as something that wasn't really there. Like seeing dancing bears in the sky when they're really just clouds. But you just couldn't explain that to some people. In the back of the room, Trelawney was praising Lavender Brown for having seen a rabbit in her crystal ball - which the girl interpreted to mean that her recently deceased pet rabbit was trying to communicate with her from beyond the grave. Honestly! What sort of rational person believed in that foolishness? A pet rabbit talking to it's owner after its death? A <strong>rabbit<strong>?

Harry was sitting directly across from her balancing his chin on his hands as he stared into the globe on their table, making an honest attempt at the exercise. To Hermione's left, Ron was propped up on one arm with his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. He was so bored he'd fallen alseep. The girl herself just sat with her arms crossed over her chest, staring up at the ceiling. Why had she wanted to come to this class again? It was a complete waste of her time and she couldn't fathom why she'd been so worried about attending. She could be in Ancient Runes learning something useful instead of this pointless, idiotic...

"Whoa, I think I saw something!" Harry whispered.

Ron awoke with a snort and he sat up straighter in his chair. "What? Where? What did you see?"

"There." Harry said, pointing to the crystal ball. "It was the face of a man. I couldn't tell who it was, but it looked like he might have been saying my name."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Harry." she said. "You should know by now that all of this is just a bunch of rubbi..."

"And what do we have here?"

Trelawney had finally arrived to their side of the room and was checking on their progress. Harry immediately hesitated, obviously thinking that if he told the professor about what he'd seen, she would turn it into something it wasn't in front of the entire class. Hermione fought back the urge to roll her eyes again and leaned forward. No matter how much she disliked it, Divination was still one of her classes and her participation grade wasn't as high as she would like it to be. With the way the woman was so focused on gloom and doom, she imagined she could come up with something that Trelawney would love to hear.

"Could I try?" she questioned.

The professor peered at her for a moment, then nodded and waved a hand toward the globe. "Of course. What is it that you see?"

Hermione turned her gaze toward the crystal ball and focused intently upon it's center. She saw nothing but smoke.

"The grim." she announced.

Trelawney's lips pressed together in a line and she pulled over a chair to sit down between her and Ron. "My dear," she began solemnly. "From the very moment you first walked into my classroom, I sensed that you did not possess the 'sight' necessary for the noble art of Divination." she took one of the girl's hands into her own and began tracing her fingers across the lines of her palm. "You see?" she said, pointing to a particular line. "Your spirit is as shrivelled as an old woman's. Your soul as old and dry as the pages to which you so desperately cling."

The professor then folded her hand closed and gave it a motherly sort of pat. Hermione just stared at her in disbelief. What? This dunderheaded... stupid... nitwit of a woman was going to sit there and insult her to her face, then act like it was nothing? How **dare** she? The girl's mouth fell open in shock and she jerked her hand away, shoving herself up from the table so fast that it skidded back a few inches.

"Well I'd rather be a shrivelled old woman with a dried up soul than a **fraud** who doesn't know what she's doing!" she exclaimed.

In a flourish, Hermione swept her arm across the table and knocked the crystal ball right off of it. It bounced and rolled across the floor as she snatched up her things to leave. She didn't give a damn how it looked to the rest of the class. She was **not** going to sit there and listen to that God awful woman say such horrible things to her. As she stomped out, she overheard Trelawney worriedly ask Harry and Ron if she'd said something to upset her. How daft could a person get? Only a blithering idiot wouldn't understand how insulting that was!

Hermione wasn't exactly sure what she was doing, but she wasn't about to set a foot back into that classroom. **Ever**. With the state she was in, she didn't consider trying to attend one of her other classes either. She had foolishly forgotten her time turner up in her room. It was certainly possible for her to go upstairs to fetch it, but she didn't think about it. She was too angry. The girl wanted to rip her hair out in frustration and scream until her lungs gave out. Making a beeline for the only place she knew to be empty this time of day, Hermione prissily strode through the hallways until she reached the music room. It was the place where Professor Flitwick normally held rehearsals for the school choir. Snapping the door shut behind her, the girl dropped down to the floor and snatched her Divination book out of her bag. She glared down at the cover for a moment or two, then jerked it open and began meticulously ripping out the pages one by one. So her soul was as old and dry as the pages she clung to, was it? Well, she wasn't going to be 'clinging' to these pages any longer. There was nothing useful or meaningful in the stupid book! Pure nonsense, all of it. When she had torn out and crumpled up every last page, Hermione piled them up in front of her and cast a spell to set them aflame. It was the only thing that rubbish was good for, she thought. To serve as fuel for a fire. As the remnants of her Divination textbook burned down to a pile of ash, she grit her teeth together furiously and hurled the now empty leatherbound cover across the room. It disappeared into a shadowy corner and hit the wall with a thud. But the violence of the action did little to soothe her growing temper. Hermione clenched her fingers tightly into her hair and hissed angrily between her teeth, raising one of her legs to kick out at the music stand sitting in front of her. The metal object toppled over and hit the floor with a loud clatter of noise. There. That made her feel a bit better.

"I shouldn't have to tell you how stupid it is to be making a racket if you don't want to be found." a familiar voice commented out of nowhere.

Hermione's eyes widened and her head shot up with a sharp gasp. What was Bassarab doing there? She was sure the room had been empty when she arrived and she hadn't heard anyone come in... But there he was, leaning casually against the wall near the closed door, studying her.

"Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest in surprise. "What the devil are you doing? How long have you been there?"

One of Mihnea's dark brows went up. "A while." he said simply.

Meaning he had probably been there the entire time and had been watching her. Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be in class instead of spying on me?" she demanded.

His eyebrow travelled a notch higher and he uncrossed his arms to point to himself. "Reviewing for OWL's." he reminded her. "We're allowed to leave class once we finish our assignments. And I'd hardly call it 'spying' when I was here first and you barge in in a snit and start kicking things around." his eyes wandered over to the ashen remains of her divination textbook. "You might not realize this, Granger, but the resident know-it-all ripping one of her precious books to shreds isn't something you get to see every day. I just **had** to watch."

The girl immediately took his comment to be insulting. Hearing the words 'know-it-all' and 'her precious books' brought to mind what Trelawney had said earlier. Without thinking about what she was doing, Hermione snatched up her wand and pointed it at him in a temper.

"**What** did you say?" she asked in a low, warning tone.

"I said: the resident know-it-all ripping one of her precious books to shreds isn't something you get to see every day, so I had to watch." Bassarab repeated verbatim. He glanced placidly at the tip of her wand, then back at her. "Are you planning on hexing me? You'd be the first in this school brave enough to try, so go right ahead. I've always wondered if being hit with a spell would do anything to me."

She wasn't sure why, but something about his calmness and complete lack of concern made her hesistate. What on earth was she doing? Bassarab wasn't treating her any differently than he normally did. In fact, if she thought about it, his attitude probably wasn't meant to be insulting... it was just easy for her to percieve his bluntness that way because she was angry. Casting a hex or jinx at him might not even work. His mother was invulnerable to spells that affected the mind, and vampires had a natural resistance to most forms of magic. There was no telling if he had inherited those traits, or to what degree. Very slowly, Hermione lowered her wand.

"I'm sorry." she told him.

"If it were a problem, I wouldn't be standing here giving you a target." Mihnea replied with a nonchalant shrug. He paused to study her. "I heard you slapped Malfoy."

The girl blinked at him. It didn't seem like nearly enough time had passed for word of that to have spread. Draco was a third year, so it wasn't like he would have heard it directly from him during a class. "How would you know about that?" she asked.

"From the sound it, there were dozens of witnesses around. When people see something like that, they start talking." Bassarab gave her an almost chiding look. "I expected better of you."

Hermione continued to stare at him. Did he really just say what she thought he said? She crossed her arms over her chest with a deep huff of resentment. "You're a fine one to lecture me for hitting someone."

"Who said I was lecturing you for hitting him?" Mihnea countered. "Slapping someone is a prissy, overly feminine attempt at humiliation. It doesn't leave a mark behind and it's easy to claim that it didn't hurt. You should have broken his nose. Or given him a black eye at the very least."

While some part of her was taken aback by the idea of someone thinking she should have hit **harder** rather than not hitting at all, she supposed she should have expected as much from him. The girl turned her head away from him with a sniff.

"I'm beginning to think you only like seeing people hurt." she shot back.

"When they deserve it, absolutely." he replied.

Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye and found he looked unapologetic about it as well. Bassarab blandly studied her reaction then pushed himself away from the wall. She half thought he intended to come toward her, but he stepped toward the left instead. The girl was a bit stunned when he sat down on the bench of the grand piano across the room.

"You play piano?" she asked, unable to restrain herself.

Mihnea looked up from folding back the lid that covered the keys. "Yes...?"

Perhaps it was a strange thing to focus on, but Hermione couldn't help but be interested. She figured that a new subject would provide a distraction from her current mental state at least.

"I'm sorry, I just... had no idea you knew how." she said.

One of Bassarab's eyebrows went up slightly. "I don't recall you or anyone else ever asking." he pointed out. He straighted his posture and lightly brushed his fingers over the keys. "I picked it up from my mother. She taught me how to play when I was younger and when they saw it was something I had a knack for, she and dad hired an instructor for me."

"She couldn't keep teaching you herself?"

"Not really." he replied. "Mom never took formal piano lessons. She taught herself by playing by ear. There were other things she was more interested in so she never seriously persued it. I think I was about eight or so when she decided I was moving out of her league." he placed his hands into playing position and allowed them to hover over the keys. "Do you play at all?"

Hermione shook her head. "I took a few lessons when I was younger, but I wasn't terribly good at it." she admitted. "My instructor said my fingers were too short to play properly. The only thing I remember how to play now is the melody of _Fur Elise_."

Mihnea wrinkled his nose in distaste and made a faux gagging noise. "Ugh." he said with a visible shiver. "I **despise** Beethoven."

That was... strange. The girl had heard of some students of classical music who prefered other composers over Beethoven, but to say he despised the man was going a bit far. She peered at him curiously.

"What's wrong with Beethoven?"

Bassarab gave her a nonchalant shrug. "He's German."

_What?_ She thought. That was it? "That's the silliest thing I've ever heard!" Hermione declared. "What sort of reason is that?"

"I don't **like** Germans." Mihnea said firmly, shooting a hard look at her. "They make me nervous. Beethoven himself is overrated anyway. Everyone makes such a big deal about him writing music while he was deaf, but anyone who knows a thing about music will tell you that you don't need to hear it played to write it. Most compositions are written from the sounds the composer hears in their mind's ear." he paused to place a hand to his chest mockingly. "Beethoven wrote music out of his head like other composers have been doing for centuries? **Wow!** That's **soooo** impressive." he shook his head with a snort. "There are other German composers who were capable of things far more noteworthy. Mozart, for example, could improvise pieces on the piano for hours and then sit down and write out every note from memory. He never had to make changes to anything he did. Bach is famous for coming up with fugues off the top of his head with no trouble - which is something most musicians hate writing because they're so difficult. Beethoven wasn't special. He wrote beautiful music, sure, but he didn't do anything that dozens of composers before him hadn't already done. He just gets all the glory because he happened to lose his hearing during his career."

Hermione wasn't sure if she agreed with him, but she didn't know enough about classical music to formulate a rebuttal. So rather than get into an argument she would probably lose (which was unacceptable), she crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed.

"Fine." she said. "If you hate Beethoven so much, which composers **do** you like?"

Bassarab cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Oh, there are several of them." he told her. "Schubert, Rachmaninov, Stravinsky, Tchaikovski, Gershwin, Liszt... but Chopin has always been my favorite. In my opinion, his music has a lot of lyrical depth and emotional expressiveness that's fun to play."

Some of the names he listed off were faintly familiar, while others were ones the girl had never heard before. Chopin was the most recognizable, of course. There were few people who didn't know who he was, even if they'd never heard his music. Hermione shifted slightly in her position on the floor.

"I'll admit I haven't heard much of Chopin's work, but going from the few pieces I've listened to before, I got the impression that his music was..." she paused, searching for a 'polite' way to explain. "Complex for the sake of being complex. They're so technically demanding that it's hard to listen to them. It winds up coming across as jumbled up noise that doesn't make much sense." she caught sight of him studying her intently and sobered a bit. "No offense, but that's the feeling I got."

Mihnea continued to watch her silently for a moment. "You obviously haven't heard much of his music then." he announced. "It might be his preludes that you're thinking of. Some of them are considered the most difficult music ever written for piano. I actually don't like playing _No. 16_ because it's so complicated. Not all of his pieces are like that though. Have you never heard of the Raindrop prelude?"

Hermione thought about it. "It... sounds familiar." she admitted. "I think I've heard the name before, but not the piece itself."

"Would you like to?"

The girl blinked at him in surprise. He was offering to play something for her? She couldn't fathom why he would do such a thing, but... it **would** be interesting. Hermione focused her attention on learning so many different things that she'd never bothered to study much relating to music. Her experience with her piano instructor so long ago had sort of put her off of it. However, having the opportunity to expand her knowledge in a particular area - even if it was something she hadn't cared much about before - wasn't something she could pass up. She slowly inclined her head in response.

Bassarab returned her nod with an acknowledging one of his own. His posture straightened and he elegantly stretched his fingers before placing them on the keyboard again. There was a second or two of complete silence - as if he were counting off beats inside his head - and then the music began. It was a light, airy sound played much slower than Hermione would have expected. After a few bars, she thought it might be the loveliest thing she'd ever heard before.

"It's beautiful..." she said, taken aback by how different it was than the few other pieces of Chopin's work she was familiar with. The girl shook her head and peered at him questioningly. "Why is it called the raindrop prelude?"

His fingers never pausing or missing a beat, Mihnea turned his head slightly to glance at her. "You don't hear it?" he asked. When he saw her expression shift to one of bewilderment he stopped playing altogether and turned toward her. "You're analyzing it too much, Granger. Music like this is designed to take you on a journey. If you try to control it, you'll miss the meaning of it. You have to close your eyes, stop thinking, and let the notes take you where they want you to go."

The girl had never heard such a thing before and personally, she thought the idea came dangerously close to some of Professor Trelawney's lectures about 'seeing into the Great Beyond'. All that nonsense about not analyzing things and letting them happen the way they wanted - as if they had a mind of their own or something. Hermione couldn't repress a disproving sniff.

"That sounds like a bunch of mystical hogwash if you ask me." she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bassarab rolled his eyes up to the ceiling with a deep sigh. "Just humor me, would you?" he asked. "If you don't get anything out of it, you can call me an idiot when it's over." With that, he lifted one of his hands with two fingers extended and waved them downwards at her. "Eyes closed."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling herself, thinking that this was the dumbest thing she could possibly be doing. But when Mihnea calmly repeated the instruction, she caved in and shut her eyes. She supposed there wouldn't be any harm in playing along with this rediculous idea of his.

"Good." she heard him say. "Now, don't think. Just listen."

The girl sat there in the self-imposed darkness, not believing that anything extraordinary would happen. Music was only music, after all. It could be amazingly beautiful to the ears, but she didn't know about this 'taking you on a journey' thing he was going on about. When he took up playing again, it sounded like he had started over from the beginning. At first it was only the familiar notes of what he played before, but the more she set her thoughts to the side to listen, the more they became something more. Maybe it was blocking out her surroundings so nothing existed but the music that allowed it. Whatever the reason, the effect was astonishing. As the melodious notes from the piano danced through the air, Hermione heard the rain. A light drizzle that fell while a few gentle rays of the sun shown out. When the music became darker and more dramatic, she heard the distant rumble of thunder and in her mind's eye, she saw growing stormclouds blot out the sun. The speed of the rainfall grew harder and more insistent in time with the melody and when the loud, lower notes crashed from the keyboard, bolts of lightning flashed across her imaginary sky. It never became a torrential downpour. No... rather it was the sort of controlled storm that took place on a dreary day. Just dark enough to be ominous without inspiring a full sense of danger or dread. As the music slowed and returned to the lighter notes reminiscent of the beginning, the sun broke through the gray clouds once again and the rain slowed to a softer pace. The rainstorm was over.

Ordinary songs didn't **do **things like that. The piece Mihnea played for her was more than simple music. It had been an experience. When the piece was completed and Hermione opened her eyes again, she found that she had scooted across the floor without realizing what she'd been doing. Trying to get closer to the beautiful music that had been playing. The girl was now less than a foot away from the piano and Bassarab was looking down at her with an arched brow of bemusement.

"I take it you heard it that time?" he asked, looking like he was trying not to laugh at her awed expression.

She quickly nodded. "That was amazing." she breathed. "I've never heard anything like that before..." she paused to clear her throat. "You're **really** good."

Mihnea didn't say anything, but inclined his head graciously in thanks. She watched as he absentmindedly played a set of scales like he were bored and was doing it to pass the time. When he finally spoke again, she was positively shocked by what came out of his mouth.

"Your nightmares are getting worse."

She went very still and pulled her eyes away from the piano to stare at him in horror. Bassarab hadn't asked a question. He plainly stated it as if he knew it was a fact. The first thought she had was that Connie may have told him. But she only knew that Hermione had nightmares, not that they'd been getting worse. She steadfastly refused to talk about the dreams she had, so there was no way... She fixed her eyes firmly on the ground and balled her hands up into fists to keep them from shaking. There was no point in trying to deny it. He would know it was lie.

"I thought they would have stopped by now." she said quietly. "Or gotten better, at least. But it's like every time I close my eyes there's something new..." the girl couldn't bring herself to say anymore and stopped to briskly rub her nose with the back of her hand, then glanced up. "Why do you care?"

It must have come out harsher than she intended because Mihnea actually flinched. "I usually don't." he admitted. "I guess this time it's more personal." he shook his head and fixed her with an intent look. "Am I in them?"

His expression remained guarded, but Hermione caught sight of something in his gaze she didn't expect. A glimmer of... anxiousness? Was he worried that she was having nightmares about **him**?

"Sort of..." she began. When she saw the flicker in his eyes and the uncomfortable tightening of his jaw, she hastily went on. "It's always at the end and it happens so fast I can't make much sense of it." she told him. "I remember seeing red, glowing eyes and thinking the vampires had come back for me. And... I hear you tell me to go to sleep. That's all. There's nothing I can specifically make out as being you except your voice - and I never recognize it until after I wake up. There are... a lot of other things I dream about that bother me more than that bit."

Bassarab kept studying her for a while, then slumped, bringing his elbows up to rest on the upper edge of the piano as he rubbed at his temples.

"If my father heard that, he would probably be disappointed I wasn't the scariest thing there." he muttered.

Hermione wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond to that. She carefully cleared her throat. "Um... if it makes you feel better, you **were** pretty scary." she said. "From what little I remember, anyway."

She meant for it to be taken in a joking, lighthearted sort of way. Something to make him feel better about the situation. But Mihnea only let out this tired sounding laugh that gave her the impression she hadn't done a good job of it.

"Yeah, well, I guess that's about the only thing I'm good at, so I'll take that as a compliment." he said.

Hermione frowned and allowed her shoulders to drop. Did he really believe that being scary was the only thing he could do? That was kind of... no, actually it was **very** sad. But she figured if she tried to tell him how wrong he was, Bassarab would get offended or think that she pitied him. Some people had a strange aversion to that sort of thing. So rather than correcting him, the girl shifted uncomfortably and moved to change the subject. There was something that had been bothering her for a while, and she wanted to ask him while she had enough courage for it.

"If I were to ask you something about that night... would you tell me the truth?" she questioned softly.

Mihnea had been resting his face in his hands but when she spoke, he turned his head toward her, running a hand back to hold his wild hair out of his face as he considered the question.

"Yes." he said simply. "But you'd better make damn sure it's something you want to know before you ask."

The girl nodded. That was a sensible warning. "No, I... I **need** to know." she said. She shoved her mass of hair behind her ears before going on. "Some memories have been coming back. Not everything, just small details. But... I can't tell if they're things that really happened, or if my mind is just making it out to be worse than it was." she glanced down at her hands in her lap and saw they had started shaking again. "Was... I mean, did they..." growing irritated at her inability to form the question, Hermione huffed and spat it out before she could think too much about what she was doing. "Was I molested?"

Bassarab studied her silently for so long that she worried about what his response would be. One would think that if something like that had transpired, she would know. But these most recent, vivid nightmares contained things that would have left distinctive signs behind. No one had said a word about them when she was in Hellsing's hospital wing, so she was beginning to think they hadn't told her to keep from dumping too much trauma on her all at once.

"You weren't raped, Hermione." Mihnea said at last. "That, I can say for certain. They threatened to, but I interrupted before they got that far." he straightened his posture and clasped his hands together in front of him in a serious, almost businesslike manner. "I can't account for what happened before I got to your house, but I can say that when I found you, you were dressed and the vampires hadn't yet gotten you into a position I would consider 'compromising'. When I got you back to the manor, the nurses found a few bruises in some weird places - but you can get similar marks from struggling while being restrained, which you had been doing. Believe me, I was concerned about the possibility and I told them to check, but there wasn't enough physical evidence to prove you had been molested."

That completely blew a hole through her idea of what had happened. The things she dreamt about would have left proof beyond a shadow of a doubt. Normally, she imagined being given that sort of news would inspire a sense of relief. It was one less thing for her to fret over. And yet... while Hermione knew she probably should feel that way, in reality she didn't. Mihnea's revelation only made her grow incredibly angry and frustrated with herself. The girl clenched her jaw tightly.

"So I've been imagining things then." she said. "It wasn't real..."

"I didn't say that." Bassarab countered. "I just said there wasn't enough **physical **evidence to prove it. Some vampires are able to take control of the mind and craft illusions so powerful that a human being can't tell the difference between them and reality. You would see, hear, and feel everything as if it were actually happening, but there wouldn't be any signs left behind for others to find. When I got to your house, you were screaming like you were being tortured. Unless you have the lowest pain tolerance I've ever heard of, there is no way in hell the few bruises and scrapes you had would have been enough to make you sound that way. Just because something happens inside your head doesn't mean it's not real. Mental torture is always the worse kind because people who don't understand how it works will have trouble believing, and the person can drive themselves insane over being traumatized by something they can't prove." He lowered his head to give her a more understanding look. "If you're starting to remember things like that now, then they **happened**. End of story."

It wasn't a nice or pleasant picture he painted for her and yet somehow, hearing that made her feel... justified. Not **better** exactly, but it was still nice to know that he didn't doubt her word and believed it had been real, regardless of whether there was proof or not.

"Thank you." she told him sincerely.

Mihnea inclined his head to her. "You're welcome." He glanced at his wristwatch to check the time and wrinkled his nose. "Great." he muttered. "I have a class to get to."

He stood up and bent backward to stretch out his muscles. His messenger bag was then retrieved from the floor next to the piano bench and he rifled around inside of it as he walked forward. Hermione straightened from climbing up off the floor herself to find that he was extending a small, stoppered glass bottle out to her. She blinked at it in confusion.

"What is that?"

"It's a potion that blocks nightmares." Bassarab replied. He looked her up and down consideringly. "You look like shit, Granger. Anyone can look at you and tell you haven't slept in weeks. If it's gotten bad enough that you're attacking people without provocation, then you'll be killing someone next. The longer you go without real rest, the harder it is to get over it. Trust me, I've done it many, many times and it never turns out well."

Hermione gave him an odd look, not understanding what he was doing. "Why do you have a potion that blocks nightmares?" she asked. "I've never heard of something like that before."

He shrugged in response. "You wouldn't." he replied. "My mom makes them for me. Professor Snape has one that's in development, but we're not on speaking terms at the moment and his potion isn't worth a damn anyway."

She continued to study him in bewilderment. "You have nightmares too?"

Mihnea was quiet for a while, as if deciding whether to answer or not. "All the time." he admitted at last. When he saw her open her mouth to question him further about it, he held up a finger. "I don't ask you about the details of your dreams, so don't try to ask about mine." he sighed and insistently thrust the bottle toward her. "Just take the ruddy thing."

For a moment, Hermione couldn't imagine what he could possibly have bad dreams about, then realized that with the family he came from and things he did while he was home, he'd probably seen enough to last a lifetime. Surely his mission to rescue her hadn't been his first. There was no telling what sorts of things he had experienced and done long before. Maybe it was in her best interests to take the potion. If it was something he used himself, she would at least be assured that it worked properly. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, the girl slowly reached out and wrapped her fingers around the bottle.

"Thank you." she said.

Bassarab nodded in response. "Wait until you're back in your room to drink it." he instructed, gesturing to the potion. "It packs a punch. You'll be out like a light within five minutes."

She gaped at him in shock. "What, you mean **now**?" she asked, inferring from his tone that he meant for her to take it immediately. "I can't do that! It's still morning and I have other classes to get to!"

"So? Skip them." Mihnea replied like it was simplest thing in the world. "You're exhausted, you aren't thinking as fast or as clearly as usual, and you're irritable. It won't do you any good to attend class how you are now. You missed all of last term your second year and still got perfect grades. Staying out one day won't kill you." He grinned devilishly and began walking backward toward the door. "Do something crazy and unexpected every now and then, Granger. You'll live longer."

With that, he turned on his heel and left. Hermione found herself staring after him, a thousand thoughts pouring through her mind. Skip classes for the rest of the day? Sure, she'd walked out of one and missed another by accident, but that was different! However... maybe... **maybe** he had a point. The girl could scarcely believe she was entertaining such a blasphemous idea. But she **was** tired and she wasn't thinking as well as she normally did. If she tried to attend the rest of her classes, it was entirely possible she'd sit there unable to absorb the information presented. Or, depending on which students she shared those classes with, she might overhear something that would send her into another temper. She was level-headed enough at the moment to recognize that she didn't need to fall into another of those situations. Harry and Ron had wanted to drag her off to the hospital wing after she threatened them earlier, after all.

So it was going to bed, or seeing the day through and someone possibly forcing her to go see Madam Pomfrey if she snapped again. Perhaps, logically speaking, going upstairs to sleep it off was the best option.

* * *

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	61. The Purgatorium Incident

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Infiltration and information retrieval with a moderate chance of a conflict breaking out. That was all. But somehow, it wound up being anything but simple.

The whole thing started with an unusual request for help from the London police department. They had been recieving reports of suspicious activity in and around a particular nightclub called Purgatorium for the past several months. There were few specific accusations leveled, but those that talked about the place all insisted that something was going on there that shouldn't be. At first, the claims came from the sort of people that the authorities didn't take too seriously. Street urchins, tramps, and prostitutes who had never been inside the establishment, but saw or overheard things going on in an alleyway behind the building. Considering that those were groups of people who were known for getting in trouble with the law and would willingly trade false information with the police to save their own skins, nothing much was done about it. But as the reports became more numerous, more and more people came out of the woodwork. Bleeders who had been to the club spoke of a noticible change in atmosphere since the new management had taken over. The current owner had been seen meeting with strange people who made the human patrons uncomfortable. That made the authorities finally sit up and pay attention. For as much as they were disliked and looked down upon by the general populace, bleeders weren't the sort to be squeamish or easily spooked. Anyone who spent large amounts of time around vampires would quickly be cured of those ailments. If something out there was rubbing them the wrong way, it was worth taking note of.

The final 'nail in the coffin' so to speak came in the form of a young woman named Anne Marie Pinkerton. She was a donor who belonged to a very old female vampire who was well known in the area. Miss Pinkerton had actually worked at Purgatorium and according to police reports, she claimed that the basement of the building had been used for storage for years. When the club switched hands to the new owner, he had everything cleared out of the space then declared it off limits to all employees. No explanation was given and those brave enough to question him about it were fired on the spot. One night after closing, she had been alone in the club finishing up with a spot of cleaning before going home. Thinking that everyone was gone, her boss came in with a group of 'weird people' and escorted them down to the basement. They appeared to be carrying large crates and black bags down there. The young woman couldn't explain why, but she had been afraid of some sort of backlash if they saw she was there. She hid herself behind the bar until they were out of sight, then attempted to make a break for it. In her haste, she wound up knocking over a chair. The sound alerted the owner and his companions to her presence and the whole lot of them came back upstairs and caught her before she was able to get out. They all demanded to know what she was doing there and how much she had seen. One of the men rather violently suggested that they 'take care of her' - which Miss Pinkerton interpreted to be a death threat. She swore to them that she had been about to leave and had only seen them pass by and nothing else. Her boss took this to be truthful and convinced the others to let her go; albeit with a strong warning to forget everything that happened and never return.

A sensible person would think the police would have put her into protective custody after hearing a story like that. Or sent an officer to keep an eye on her at the very least. But they did nothing of the sort. The authorities only assured her that they would look into the matter, then sent her on her way. Anne-Marie Pinkerton was found dead in her home less than twenty-four hours later. It was so sudden and shocking that one of the inspectors on the case decided to go back and search for the other witnesses who had come forward to check on them. He discovered that four of them were dead and three were missing - which he suspected meant they were dead as well but hadn't been found yet. The four they had bodies for, along with Miss Pinkerton, all displayed the same M.O. There were no signs of foul play and no discernable cause of death. It looked like they had simply dropped dead for no reason. After a lengthy investigation, the medical examiner decided to label the cause as a drug overdose in each case. All the lab work came back clean, but new drugs appeared on the street all the time. It wasn't unheard of for someone to die from something that didn't show up on a toxicology screen.

The general consensus at the police department was that this was a human issue. There was no evidence of vampires being involved in the deaths and all the facts suggested that Purgatorium had been taken over to serve as a front for some sort of illegal activity. Given the amount of organization and thought put into keeping everything hidden, some thought the Mafia might be involved. Whatever was going on, it wasn't the sort of thing Hellsing normally dealt with. Their job was to hunt monsters, not track down drug lords. But while the deaths of a few homeless people, prostitutes, and bleeders could be swept under the rug, the murder of a donor could not. A vampire had been deprived of her rightful blood source. Vampires were famous for being territorial when it came to their property (especially so with the females) and she would probably go on a bloody rampage when she found out who was responsible. Not only that, but Purgatorium was one of those places that served as a legal 'hunting ground' for vampires. Humans were only allowed in by invitation and if they arrived without a median escort, the understanding was that they were bleeders who were open to being fed from by any vampire who wanted to do business with them. If the police attempted to send in an undercover agent, they would quickly be sniffed out and forced to leave. Or, if by some miracle they avoided detection, would find themselves in the middle of a dangerous situation they had no training in how to handle.

After learning of the negligent manner in which they had done things thus far, Sir Integra was furious enough to spit nails. The entire situation could have been avoided and eight people would still be alive if they had only taken things seriously the first time a report was made. She declared that the human authorities efforts would only make the problem worse. Syn had many connections within the London nightlife scene and a glowing reputation as a DJ. The lady knight had used that to her advantage numerous times - sending her out to infiltrate various establishments that catered to vampires and their humans for surveillence purposes. They would do the same thing again; only this time, the information gathered would be passed along to the police so they could clean up the mess they'd made themselves.

Getting an invitation to Purgatorium wasn't that difficult. All Syn had to do was call up a few friends and ask them to drop her name to the right people. When the owner of the place heard about her spinning skills and talent for drawing in customers, he was more than happy to contact her to work out a contract for a guest engagement. When she met with him to discuss things in person, she understood why others were uncomfortable around him. Mr. Tiziano, as he introduced himself, was a perfectly pleasant, polite sort of person. However, there was just something about him that was... off. Syn kept every sense focused on him intently, searching for anything out of place, but couldn't put her finger on what it was. She eventually decided that her sixth sense was setting off warning bells in her head because he was acting too damn nice. The redhead had gotten so used to the owners of nightclubs being assholes that she automatically became suspicious of one who wasn't. After working out an agreement for what she would be paid for a one night engagement, Tiziano gave her a tour of the facilities, introduced her to his resident DJ, Ghost - who showed her his set up and where everything he used was - then they set a date for her to come on a Thursday night. It was a weird time for a guest spinner to be brought in. Most places that wanted to bring in customers would plan events over the weekend. Wednesday nights weren't bad in some places. Never in Syn's life had she ever heard of a Thursday being 'prime time' for a club. Doing something like that strongly implied that this new owner either didn't know what the hell he was doing or didn't care.

When Thursday made its way around, Syn found herself hounded by all the familiar things that came along with this sort of job. The attention from vampires was uncomfortable, but expected. They generally liked having her around because she smelled delicious. Alucard had a collar emblazoned with his herald made for her to wear during missions like this to serve as a warning to them that she was taken. (God knows if one of them bit her and dropped dead, everyone would be tipped off that she wasn't an ordinary human. If Alucard didn't rip them to pieces first, that is.) Of course, Syn had the ring he'd given her after their mating that symbolized the exact same thing, but no vampire would ever interpret it that way. If they did, they would probably find it incredibly odd that Alucard wore one too. That metal ring around her neck, combined with the fact that the No Life King always accompanied her on undercover assignments, gave bleeders and donors the impression that she was one of them. The redhead usually disliked being grouped in with their sort, but it sometimes proved useful. The human side of the 'vampire underground' was a very tight-knit community that was distrustful of outsiders. Being seen as a member made them more open and willing to talk to her about things they wouldn't say to anyone else.

Which was nice when they said things worth hearing. However, Syn often found she had to screen who she had conversations with to avoid listening to pretty women jealously declare how lucky she was to be 'chosen' by a vampire as sexy as Alucard. It was all she could do to restrain herself from saying that being chosen had nothing to do with it and they should keep their eyes and hands to themselves.

"You need a break yet?"

The redhead slid the large headphones she was wearing back off of her ears and pulled her eyes away from the dancefloor to see who had spoken. Ghost had come up to the DJ booth to check on her. He was a young looking guy - mid-twenties, by her estimation - with short, spiky black hair and bleached white bangs. She figured that's where he got his nickname. He had been addressing her in a civil, but chilly manner since she arrived. Syn couldn't tell if he was frosty because a woman he didn't know had taken over his turf for the night, or if it was just his personality and he treated everyone that way.

"I'm fine for now." she told him. She glanced back toward the boards, working a couple of switches to change the music, then turned back to him. "You have a nice set up here."

Ghost responded with an indifferent grunt and extended a bottle of water out toward her. "Your..." he shot a small look of reproach down at the choker around her neck. "**Master** sent this up for you."

Syn arched a brow. Hearing others refer to Alucard as her 'master' was something she was growing accustomed to (though she steadfastly refused to do it herself, regardless of the circumstances) but the attitude in which he said it was a bit surprising. She reached out to accept the water.

"Was he an ass to you?" she asked.

The young man gave her an odd look. Humans who were 'owned' by vampires treated them with the utmost respect and wouldn't dare refer to them in such a manner. Her question caught him off guard and he wasn't sure how to take it.

"No." he replied after a moment. "I don't like vampires."

The redhead's eyebrow went a notch higher. "It's a little strange for you to be working in a place like this then, isn't it?"

Ghost shrugged. "It pays the bills." he said. "I haven't been spinning for long, and this was the first place I found that had a steady gig."

_Ah. _ She thought with interest. That was a useful piece of information. If she played her cards right, she might be able to use that to her advantage. Syn noticed that he was studying her with a guarded sense of curiosity as she unscrewed the cap of the bottle to take a sip.

"You know you're allowed to drink anything you want, right?" he offered. His blue eyes flicked down at her collar again and his upper lip twitched into the smallest of sneers. "But I guess that would be against your rules."

The bottle of water paused at her lips. "What makes you think I have rules?"

"That's one of those things about you people, isn't it?" he countered. "You all have your weird rules that make no sense and you have to ask permission for everything instead of making decisions for yourselves..."

The redhead continued to watch him blandly. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

Ghost looked a bit taken aback that she interrupted his lecture, then seemed to realize how he sounded. He took half a step back.

"I don't have a problem with you." he insisted. "I just don't understand why anyone would want to be..." he made a sweeping gesture toward the dancefloor they were overlooking. "**Used** like they use you."

Syn took another sip of water and set the bottle to the side. "Well personally, I don't understand why anyone would want to look like they have a skunk on their head, but I wasn't going to say anything about it." She fought back the urge to laugh at his befuddled and offended expression, and chose to give him a simple smirk instead. "You insulted me first, dude. You had it coming." When he still didn't respond, she reached down to pull her purse up into her lap and dug around for her cigarettes. "Do you mind if I smoke in here?"

Ghost blinked at her. "I don't care."

The redhead hummed at him and put one of her black cigarettes to her lips to light it. She expected as much, seeing as how smoking was allowed in the club, but this wasn't exactly her territory. She figured she should show a little respect and ask first. She didn't want to torture the guy **that** much. She took a long, deep drag and slowly blew the smoke out through her nose.

"I don't know where you heard that nonsense about people like me having 'rules', but it's not true." she told him. She shrugged toward the masses of people below them. "Maybe some of them do, but I don't. I've been working in clubs and bars since I was fifteen and I figured out pretty fast that drinking alcohol wasn't something I wanted to take up. Water is perfect."

One of Ghost's brows went up in interest. "Fifteen? How'd you manage that?"

Syn glanced at him meaningfully. "Fake ID's make the world go round."

Her ploy to shift the conversation into a more neutral area he would be familiar with worked. The young man's eyes lit up in amusement and he crossed his arms over his chest with a chuckle.

"Sounds like you were braver than I was." he commented. "I thought about getting one of those once but I figured with my luck, I'd get caught."

"Trust me, there were some policemen who knew I was underage, but they never gave me any trouble." Syn told him with a smile. "As long as you keep your nose clean, there's not much to worry about."

Ghost pointed at her. "That's the problem. I've never been good at keeping my nose clean."

She could imagine. If he treated everyone with the same attitude he'd used with her, it was a wonder that he hadn't said the wrong thing to the wrong person and wound up dead yet. Taking another pull from her cigarette, Syn decided to start fishing and see if he would take the bait.

"If you have trouble with authority, you sure picked an odd profession to get into." she said as she turned her attention back to the boards. "Club owners aren't the easiest people to deal with. Most are jackasses."

He leaned back to rest his weight against the wall. "I never said I have a problem with authority." he corrected. "I may have a talent for trouble, but I know how to keep my mouth shut and not ask too many questions." he paused to meaningfully look down his nose at her. "And I would be very careful what you say about Mr. Tiziano if I were you. If he overheard something like that, things could be very... bad for you."

"Oh, please." The redhead said with a snort and roll of her eyes. "I've been with a vampire for the past seventeen years and you think I'd be scared of a human?" She waved a hand at him. "I wasn't even talking about Tiziano. I'm only saying that in general, people who own and operate these types of businesses only care about making money. That will turn anyone into a jerk and it's stupid to pretend otherwise. As a matter of fact, I thought it was a little weird that your boss was so nice during that interview I had with him."

Ghost shrugged. "I got the impression he was being nicer to you than he usually is because you have an interesting reputation."

That got Syn's attention. She turned to give him a questioning look. "What 'interesting reputation' would that be?"

"People that have worked with you before say that vampires are attracted to you like flies to honey." he said bluntly. "That the bleeders and donors look up to you as some kind of standard they want to reach. That you wear a dragon herald, which **supposedly** is only used by members of Dracula's bloodline, and..." he tapped his chin in a mock display of thoughtfulness. "Oh, that's right. You've belonged to the same vampire for more than a decade when no other donor has ever lasted more than five years - and you don't look nearly old enough to have been around that long. That's a **very** interesting reputation to have, if you ask me."

She arched a brow challengingly. "So what? Your boss sent you up here to spy on me and milk me for information because my personal life is a little strange?"

"Mr. Tiziano doesn't give a damn about your personal life." Ghost told her. "He asked you to come because you being here makes him look good. I'm asking for myself because you look and act completely different from what I expected. When something or someone is 'different', I can't help but be interested." he looked her up and down for a second, then sniffed. "Besides, if he wanted to keep an eye on you, he wouldn't be sending me to do it."

Syn tapped her ashes off into an empty coffee cup left over from earlier in the night. "Not subtle enough to be a spy, huh?"

"No, I've made it clear from the moment he took over that I didn't want to be involved in any weird shit he has going on."

_Jackpot._ She thought. Putting on a mildly curious expression to hide how interested she was in what he had to say, the redhead pressed forward. "What 'weird shit'?"

"I have no idea." he replied. "I told you I know better than to ask too many questions."

That's what he said, but Syn could see a new sort of tension in his demeanor. He had to know something if he knew he didn't want to be a part of it.

"You seem like an observant type guy though." she commented, continuing to prod at him. "There must be something going on here that you've noticed."

Ghost went very still and studied her intently. His jaw was clenched tightly and his gaze was suspicious. "Why are you worried about it?" he challenged, then quickly glanced around as if to assure himself that no one had snuck up on them to listen to their conversation. "Are you working for the police?"

Syn crossed her arms over her chest. "No." she said simply, thinking that it wasn't really a lie.

The young man didn't look convinced. "Then what are you doing here asking all these questions?"

She took a moment to think about how to respond to that. Something that wouldn't put him off of talking to her. After a few seconds of silence, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Let's just say that I prefer to know about the people I'm working for so I can cover my ass later if I have to." she told him meaningfully. "And I'm here because my master wants me to be."

Almost like a switch was flipped, Alucard's voice poured into her mind the moment those words left her lips.

_Did I just hear you call me your __**master**__, little goddess?_ he purred in delight. _ I believe I'll remind you that next time you complain about me being too bossy with you._

_Shut up, jackass. _she fired back at him. _ I was thinking of Integra._

Syn could almost see his lips pulling back into a sadistic smirk of amusement. _Of course you were._

Something about the way he said it was so insinuating that it took a considerable force of will to keep from blushing. The redhead mentally grit her teeth at him.

_Goddamn it Alucard, I am working here! I'm already doing two things at once so... go scare somebody or something and quit distracting me._

He didn't respond with words, but his deep chuckle of amusement danced through her brain before fading away into nothingness. She still felt him there, of course. Lurking about in her head to listen in on what she was doing no doubt, but at least he wasn't bothering her. Keeping track of the music she was playing and holding a conversation at the same time was challenging enough without the stupid vampire making side comments every five mintues.

Thankfully, Ghost didn't appear to notice her little internal debate with her other half. He wasn't looking at Syn at all, actually. His eyes were firmly fixed on the wall behind her and his face was set in an intent, yet anxious expression. This was seriously bothering him. He probably had every reason to be antsy about talking, but still... The redhead frowned.

"Would you talk to me if I gave you something in return?" she questioned.

The young man froze and pulled his gaze away from the wall to study her. "Like what?"

She shrugged lightly. "You don't like working here, right? I hear Orchis and The Citadel have openings now and are looking for good people..."

Ghost was momentarily stunned, but the look faded quickly. "Yeah right." he said with a snort. "Those are high profile places that don't accept just anyone. I'm not stupid enough to get my hopes up."

"But getting a good job is all about the people you know." Syn pointed out. "If you're as interested in my reputation as you claim to be, then you should already be aware that I know **a lot** of people." she stopped for a second to let her words sink in. "I can't promise you a job, but I can get you an interview and put in a good word for you. That should give you an edge, but you'll have to do the rest on your own. If you're able to carry a crowd like this by yourself, I don't see how you'd have any trouble."

He faltered a bit and slowly lowered his arms, though he still watched her with suspicion. "You can really do that?"

"Absolutely." the redhead replied without hesitation. "I wouldn't be offering if I couldn't."

Ghost continued to study her for a few moments, then took a deep breath and glanced out toward the main part of the club. "Okay." he said with a long exhale of breath. "But this had better not come back to bite me in the ass, got it?"

Syn nodded and made a quickly motion across her mouth as if she were zipping her lips closed. "Got it." she told him. "I heard nothing from you."

He inclined his head and leaned back against the wall again, letting himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees up in front of him. She wasn't sure why he chose to sit on the floor, but then figured he was probably doing it so that anyone who glanced up toward the DJ booth wouldn't spot him and wonder what he was doing in there with her so long.

"No one who works here likes Tiziano and most are downright scared of him." he began. "The last owner was a great guy. Opinionated as hell and he could sometimes be an ass, but otherwise alright. He genuinely liked this place and was making plans for an expansion - then one day he just up and left. We still don't know exactly what happened. He called a staff meeting one day to announce that he'd sold the place to this new guy without ever saying why. A couple of the girls have tried to get in contact with him since then, but he doesn't answer his phone and his house is empty. No one knows where the hell he's gone."

Syn pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Was he forced out the way or something?"

Ghost shrugged. "Last time I saw him, it didn't seem like he was afraid of anything. But he was definitely acting weird. He had this... blank, glassy-eyed stare and when he talked it was all monotone- like he was reading off a script. He had never acted that way before, so we all knew something wasn't right." he shifted his legs into a more comfortable position. "Anyway, when Tiziano took over he set up all these new conduct rules for employees. No one asks questions about what he's doing, no one contacts him unless he is in the main part of the building during business hours, and no one goes down to the basement. The ones that don't obey those rules are fired on the spot and we never hear from them again. Anne Marie..." he paused for a second. "We all tried to talk her out of it, but I heard she went to the police about something she saw. She's dead now. There's nothing you could do to convince me Tiziano didn't have something to do with it."

"Do you think the others who were fired are dead too?" the redhead prodded.

He shook his head. "I don't know. No one can find them so there's no way to be sure, but I wouldn't be surprised."

Syn filed that away for future reference. It sounded like the police were going to find more bodies attached to this case...

"Sounds like your boss might be running drugs out of his basement." she commented.

It was supposed to be a casual remark that would allow him to agree without actually saying anything. A safety net of sorts. But the redhead was beyond surprised when the young man sniffed in response.

"If he is, it's the weirdest drug I've ever heard of." he said. "I never knew you needed a special place filled with cages and medical stuff to be a dealer."

Her face went slack. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me right." Ghost confirmed. "Tiziano and his freaky looking buddies never noticed, but I saw a few things when they were moving it all in. There's surgical equipment, restraints, and at least three cages down there." he shifted up onto his knees to look around anxiously, then lowered his voice. There was no one around to overhear them, but he was nervous enough to not want to take a chance. "Like I said, I've been keeping my nose out of it because I don't really **want** to know what's going on... but if you ask me, it seriously looks like they're doing something to people down there."

Syn had been prepared to hear something bad, but hadn't thought it would be quite **that** bad. Illegal drugs or gambling was dangerous enough, but he made it sound like there might be human trafficking going on. That was an entirely different animal. Considering that it was going on inside a vampire centric establishment... well, it wasn't good no matter how you looked at it. She tried to question him further about it, but he continued to insist he didn't know any details. He had neither seen nor heard anything more specific that what he'd already told her - which he admitted he thought was too much. Since he had opened up and made good on his end of the deal, Syn figured that she should as well. She pulled out a pen and passed it over so she could get his number.

"Is leaving going to cause trouble for you?" she asked conversationally, though she gave him a sideways look of meaning that Ghost definitely caught.

"At this point, I'll take my chances." he replied as he scribbled on a scrap of paper. "To be honest, the boss knows I'm only here because I haven't found anything else. He won't be surprised if I quit. I figure as long as I don't go snooping around too much, he won't be worried about it."

The redhead hummed in acceptance and took the piece of paper he held out to her, then took back the pen to write down her own phone number. "I'll call around and set something up for you." she told him. "I don't know how busy these guys are, so it might take a couple of days to set a date. If you haven't heard back from me by the middle of next week, hit me up. But don't you dare think about calling me before ten in the morning or I'm going to be upset with you. I'm not a very pleasant person when I'm pissed off."

Ghost arched a brow but didn't say anything. When Syn finished writing out her number she capped the pen and stuck it back inside her purse before handing the paper over.

"If you have any **problems**," she said, gesturing to the space around them. "Let me know. I can have it taken care of."

The young man sitting on the floor before her studied her intently as he took the offered slip of paper. Like he was trying to figure something out but fell just short of doing it. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"You're really not like the others, are you?"

Syn sat back a bit and gave him an odd look. "Took you long enough to figure that out."

He gave her a small amused smile in response. "I guess I'm a little thick-headed sometimes." he told her, then looked her up and down with a new sort of interest. "So... this is probably going to come out the wrong way, but if..."

"Syn."

The redhead glanced up from him to find Alucard standing in the entrance to the booth with his arms crossed over his chest. Though she hadn't been keeping close tabs on his movements, she wasn't terribly surprised to see him. The vampire had a habit of appearing out of nowhere to check on her when he sensed something he didn't like. Ghost was so shocked by the interruption that he bolted up from the floor and whirled around to face him.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Look dude, employees only. You're not allowed to be up here."

Alucard looked at him distainfully, as if he were a pathetic insect that wasn't even worth stepping on. "Don't presume to tell me what I'm allowed to do." he warned. His lips pulled back into a sneer that showed a hint of fang. "**Dude**."

The tone was so patronizing that Ghost got the hint and took a nervous step back. Syn rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

"Yes?" she asked.

Alucard turned his burning eyes away from the young man to regard her more calmly. "Get your things and come with me."

The redhead blinked at him. "I'm kind of working right now."

"Your contract for this evening included two fifteen minute breaks which you haven't taken." he countered. "You're going to take them now. I have plans for you later and I don't want you too tired to participate."

She sighed internally. Trust Alucard to make a perverted comment in front of someone she was talking to just to show off.

_Very smooth._ She thought to him. _Are you going to make me get down on my knees and give you a blowjob in front of God and everybody too?_

One of the vampire's dark brows slowly went up. _Don't tempt me or I might._ he replied. _While you've been playing mindgames with your little human boyfriend, I've discovered something interesting._

Under normal circumstances Syn might have made a snarky comment about the 'boyfriend' bit, but his mention of finding something stopped her. She studied him curiously.

"Alright, I'm coming." she told him. She pulled off the headphones and set them down as she pushed herself out of her chair. She then turned toward Ghost. "Do you mind taking over for a while?"

The young man was looking back and forth between the two of them like he wasn't sure how to take what was going on. He shook his head to bring himself back into the present.

"Sure." he said, then glanced at his watch. "Actually, we only have about half an hour until closing, so I can go ahead and finish out the set for you."

Syn smiled. That was perfect. She thanked him for the offer and gathered up her purse and coffee cup to get them out of his way. However, when she stepped sideways to allow him to switch places with her, she felt Ghost lightly brush his fingers against her arm as they passed each other. When he saw that he had her attention, he leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Hey... be careful."

_Be careful?_ she wondered. The redhead opened her mouth to respond to but found herself quickly pulled in Alucard's direction. The vampire stepped forward to plant himself directly between them and fixed Ghost with a hard warning glare.

"She's fine." he said harshly.

Syn could tell from the look on the guy's face that he didn't appreciate being talked down to that way. Thankfully, he knew better than to pick a fight with a vampire. He was lucky that the No Life King was only mildly irritated as opposed to angry; otherwise he'd have been gutted alive already. The only option Ghost really had was to step back and hold up his hands defensively to show he wasn't going to be a problem. Alucard just snorted at the way he backed off so quickly and put a hand behind Syn's back to lead her out of the room. She thought she did a damn good job of keeping her mouth shut during the whole mess, but once they were outside and making their way down to the main floor of the club, she couldn't restrain herself anymore. She peered at him sideways.

"Wow, Alucard. Jealous much?"

The vampire didn't look at her or slow his pace. "The boy needed to be reminded of who you belong to."

Yep. He was jealous. Big time.

"Oh please." she said with a sniff. "He knew exactly who I 'belonged' to. The kid didn't even like me anyway."

Alucard glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "He liked you a great deal more than he was letting on."

_Oh._ she thought. So that whole acting like a jerk thing was some misguided attempt at flirting? Syn shook her head.

"Well, I didn't notice and even if I had, there isn't a damn thing a little boy like that could offer me that I'd be interested in." she told him. "If you knew what he thought about me, why'd you send him up to me anyway? You could have weasled all of that information out of him yourself."

The No Life King chuckled and gave her a devious looking smirk. "And miss the sight of you playing him like a fiddle to get what you wanted?" he asked. "You're developing quite the talent for manipulation, little goddess."

They had reached the bottom of the staircase leading to the main floor, so the redhead decided to respond mentally to keep anyone from overhearing the details of their conversation.

_I've been living with you too damn long. _she thought at him, then winced at the sudden increase in volume brought on by walking into a new space. _So what was this thing you found that was so interesting you had to physically come upstairs to get me?_

_I located the mysterious basement room that makes everyone here so nervous._

Ah... so he'd been snooping around._ And? _Syn prodded_. What's down there?_

_I don't know. _he replied, shocking her. _There was a barrier cast upon the room which I couldn't cross._

The redhead was so surprised by the information that she halted midstep and stared at him. There were few things in the world powerful enough to keep Alucard out of a place he wanted to go. Only two, to be more specific. One was the religious blessings used by the Iscariots to hem in the vampires they hunted to prevent them from escaping. The other was magic. And she sincerely doubted that the Vatican was running a human trafficking operation out of the basement of a vampire-centric nightclub.

_Meaning there's a wizard involved._

Alucard turned to look down at her and quirked a brow. _More than a wizard, little goddess. I cannot sense anything within the room itself, but the area outside the door was dripping with the stench of werewolves. Our orders have changed. The moment this place closes down, we hunt._

Her nice, simple mission that was wrapped up in a neat little bow suddenly wasn't so nice and simple anymore.

* * *

><p>It was difficult to come up with accurate words to describe what they found there. 'Horrific' would have been one of them. 'Disturbing' was another good one. Of course, if you work at Hellsing long enough, you're going to see (and do) some pretty horrific and disturbing things, but there were still things out there that went far beyond the ordinary level of bad.<p>

Since Purgatorium was right in the middle of London, they had to be careful not to cause too much of a scene. Alucard's strategy was to lie in wait until the werewolves and wizard arrived and went inside. He had already contacted Integra about what they had learned and a group of soldiers was stationed less than five minutes away to serve as backup if necessary. Because Syn's scent was so attractive to dark creatures and would give away their presence, she had to take up position on the roof of a nearby building and wait for the vampire to signal the all clear. When their targets finally showed up half an hour after closing, she had to watch the scene play out through Alucard's eyes to see what was going on.

There were four of them, all men, dressed in dark colored clothes to help them blend into the surrounding shadows. They waited in the alleyway until Tiziano opened a back door to let them in. The redhead caught sight of the No Life King's swirling tendrils of darkness phasing through the wall to follow, then she closed her eyes to focus on what he was seeing. They were arguing about something. It seemed the werewolves had picked up on the residual scent left behind by her being in the building. One of them - whom Syn picked out as probably being the wizard and leader of their little group - found this suspicious and began ruthlessly questioning Tiziano about any new people who had been around. The man admitted he had invited a new girl in for a one night engagement. When the redhead's name was dropped, the four newcomers all prompty grew agitated. The 'leader' drew out a wand from under his long coat, shoved it into Tiziano's face threateningly, and told him that she worked for Hellsing and had probably been sent as a spy. The owner of the club went several shades paler and insisted that there must be some mistake. He knew nothing of her being associated with Hellsing and spewed out dozens of excuses to save himself from their ire. None of it worked. The wizard shoved him backward and cast a spell that caused a jet of bright green light to hit him square in the chest. Tiziano crumpled to the floor and the man turned to his werewolf companions, telling them that they had 'cleaning up' to do. Leaving the body where it was, they turned to head down to the basement. The moment they were out of sight, Alucard stepped out into the open and signalled Syn to jump through their connection. The redhead did so and was at his side within moments. For confirmation's sake, she crouched down next to Tiziano to check for a pulse. There was none to be found.

_A killing curse._ she announced mentally, not yet daring to speak aloud. _ I guess that explains why they had trouble finding a cause of death for the other bodies._

Alucard narrowed his eyes at the body. _ Indeed._

When they moved downstairs to engage their targets, the group had already entered the basement room and put the wards back up behind them. Syn knew that breaking through them would announce their presence, so she drew her guns in preparation, then set to work identifying and breaking each of the spells placed on the door. The moment they were down, Alucard kicked down the door and sped inside to attack before they had time to react. The redhead ran in behind him and was shocked by the scene before her eyes.

It looked like something you'd expect to see in a slaughterhouse. Large sprays of blood decorated most of the walls and coated the floors. There was a stainless steel table and trays laid out with odd looking instruments - some surgical, and some obviously intended for a more magical purpose. Lined up against the walls were the cages Ghost mentioned, although there were a great deal more than three. Given his suspicion of them being used for people, she had expected them to be bigger than they were. They were actually quite small - bearly larger than dog kennels. Most looked like they had been empty for a while, but seven had obviously been recently occupied by children. **Small** children. Whatever disgusting purpose they had been locked up for Syn didn't know, but it looked like the werewolves had been tasked with killing them to get them out of the way. This must have been the cleaning up they had been talking about. The wizard was hurriedly shoving various objects and bottles into a large bag when they broke in. The moment he saw them, his face went a ghostly shade of white and he clutched the bag to his chest before vanishing with a loud pop. The coward apparated to get away from them and left the werewolves behind to do the dirty work. Alucard quickly shot down the nearest one, while Syn put a bullet into the head of the dark haired monster chomping down on the throat of a tiny little girl who was fighting to free herself from his clutches. It didn't take long for the third to figure out what was going on. He dropped the body of a young boy he had just eviscerated and bolted past them through the door to escape. The No Life King gave chase, leaving Syn behind to sort through the mess to see if any of the children were still alive.

The bastards had done a good job of killing them quickly. Six of the seven children had been sliced or ripped clean open to ensure they wouldn't survive. The only one who was currently breathing was the girl who had been bitten. Syn rushed over and dropped to her knees next to her, clamping her hands down on her throat in an attempt to slow the bleeding. She was such a tiny little thing... thin from malnourishment with long, stringy black hair that hadn't been washed in a long time. The sort of girl you could look at and and tell that if she were cleaned up, she would be quite pretty. Her skin had an olive undertone to it and her dark, chocolate colored eyes gave her an almost exotic sort of appearance. The redhead couldn't fathom why the bloody monster had bitten her in the first place. It was three days until the full moon and he had been in human form, so he wouldn't have been suffering from an animalistic need to kill. This was something done for the sheer enjoyment of causing harm. The fact that it was done to a little girl made the redhead's blood boil in fury. It was bad enough when adults were attacked, but children were absolutely defenseless.

When the girl felt Syn's hands on her neck, her dark eyes widened in shock and she began kicking and struggling to get away. Her movements were slow and weak from blood loss, but she still tried. She thought she was one of the monsters trying to finish what the werewolf had begun. The redhead felt her heart crawl up into her throat in sympathy. She had been in this position herself when she was little, so she knew exactly what this poor creature was feeling. God, she couldn't be more than five or six years old...

"Calm down, baby." she said to her as soothingly as possible. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you, but I need you to calm down."

The girl looked up at her with terrified, searching eyes, trying to determine whether or not to believe her. She stopped fighting and kicking, but her gaze remained fixed - almost like a silent plea to not let her die. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the only thing that came out was a wet, gurgling sound. As she was trying to come up with something to say to keep her calm, the redhead's eyes caught sight of something. The girl was wearing a necklace. It was very simple, looking almost like an old, antique charm that had been passed down through the years or something. Bracketed by tarnished metal beads was a flat silver disk engraved with the image of a dragon. **Alucard's** dragon. For as weird as it was, Syn didn't stop to think about all the hows and whys of the situation. All she recognized in that moment was that her responsibility to look after this child had just been amplified.

_Shit, Alucard, this is one of your gypsies. _She sent out to wherever he was.

He was still chasing down the last werewolf that had to be exterminated, but her declaration was so surprising to him that his mind went blank for a second. Syn felt the No Life King enter her head to peer through her eyes, getting a sense of things for himself, then his pondering as he made a decision.

_Take her home with you. _he said.

The redhead didn't argue or ask any questions. Knowing full well that no one was around to see it aside from the injured girl, she inclined her head in acceptance and readjusted her grip on the girl's throat so she could press a button on her earpiece. She radioed to the soldiers to instruct them to bring the truck so they could get her back to the manor. When she finished the call, she grabbed at the nearest piece of cloth she could find to help her apply pressure to the wound, then looked down at the girl's face again. She was still conscious, but the light in her eyes was fading.

"Baby, look at me." she instructed hurriedly. The girl blinked to clear away the confusion in her gaze and when Syn saw she had her full attention, she pointed to the choker around her neck to show that she wore the same symbol that was on her necklace. She hoped she would take it as a sign that she was trustworthy. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. The monsters are gone and help is coming, but you need to hold on. You're a very strong, brave girl and you're doing a great job. Just stay calm and keep fighting. Can you do that for me?"

The girl stared at Alucard's herald with wide eyes, then looked back up and gave her a small, tired nod. She was still terrified and in pain, but she believed her. As they laid there on the floor, Syn did everything in her power to keep the girl awake. She was afraid if she let her close her eyes, she would lose her. So she talked to keep the girl's mind occupied and kept her eyes on the door for any sign of the soldiers. It took only a few minutes, but to her, it felt like hours. When they got there and tried to move her onto a stretcher, the girl started freaking out again. Syn had to calmly talk her down and explain that they were good guys who were there to help and that she wasn't going anywhere. Throughout the ride home, she kept a firm grip on the girl's hand as the medical team worked, just so she would know that she wasn't alone. Transferring the girl to the surgical suite at the manor was more difficult because that was when Syn had to hand her off to others. By that point, the poor girl was so out of it that she was fading into unconsciousness, so she didn't have enough strength left to panic, but Syn didn't want to let her out of her sight. Before the doctors took her back to begin whatever repairs they had to do, the redhead made damn sure they knew the child was one of Alucard's gypsies and she would be watching their every move.

When Integra recieved the report that they had arrived with an injured party, she and Edmund immediately came down to the hospital wing to see what the hell was going on. Injured victims were usually sent to a local hospital for treatment, not brought back to the manor. Seras and Pip had been in the barracks with the soldiers who hadn't been deployed, so it wasn't long before they found about the whole mess and showed up as well. Syn reported what had happened at the club, giving all of them a full detailing of everything she knew, then explained the situation with the girl herself. The lady knight was surprised, to say the least. She ordered records to be searched to try to figure out exactly who all these children were and where they had come from. By the time Alucard finally got back from dealing with the final target, they had pulled together a fair bit of information, but Integra wasn't about to let him off the hook.

"Would you care to explain **why** a six year old girl is wearing your symbol, vampire?" she questioned in an icy tone.

The No Life King regarded his master casually. "It appears that she is descended from the gypsies of my homeland." he replied. "Many centuries ago I allowed those in my service to wear it as a reward for their loyalty. The heralds have been passed down through the generations so that the families of my original gypsies remain unmolested by any other vampires." he inclined his head to look at her over the tops of his sunglasses. "There is a reason why they have remained loyal to me for more than five hundred years, master."

Integra's brows furrowed. She already knew about him having gypsies that still jumped to obey him when called upon, so she chose to focus on something else.

"If she's a gypsy from Romania, then why is she here?" she wondered aloud. "That's an awful lot of trouble to go to unless they had a specific purpose for it."

"She may not be **from** Romania." Alucard pointed out. "You forget that gypsies are nomads, master. Some bands remain in certain areas for several generations, but others often move from place to place because they aren't wanted by the established population. It is possible her family moved to Britian years ago and she's lived here her entire life."

Syn was watching the girl being operated on through the glass of the observation room they were in, but was paying attention to the conversation. She glanced over to where they were having their discussion.

"She was too injured to say anything herself, but it looked like she understood me when I talked to her." she offered.

The No Life King leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't find it unreasonable to think she may have been in this country by chance." he said. "What I **do** find disturbing is that the herald she was wearing was ignored. Vampires only bestow heralds upon humans in which they find enough value to grant them protection and mark them as property. To ignore the meaning behind it is to invite death. There are few left in the world who would recognize my symbol as being the one I used as Dracula, but it is common knowledge that mine is the only bloodline that uses the dragon."

"But if they were werewolves, would they have known that?" Seras piped up.

Alucard shot her a sideways glance. "Even if they didn't recognize who the herald belonged to, they would still know what it meant." he replied. "The strength and power of a werewolf is significantly less than that of a vampire outside of the full moon. Most avoid interacting with our kind when they can because they know they would be outmatched in a fight. To do something like this implies that they're either looking to start a conflict, or they believe they are untouchable."

At that moment, Jackson entered the room with a stack of files in his arms. Edmund stood at attention and went over to take them from him. They were the reports they had requested on the children. The butler excused himself and Ed began rifling through the documents as he walked back over. His face twisted into a bewildered scowl.

"They're all cold cases." he said.

Integra gave a start and peered at him. "What?"

Edmund looked up from the files and divided them so that she could take half for herself. "The children that were there." he said. "According to these, they've been on the missing persons lists for several months. A few of them have been missing for more than a year."

Pip was sitting in a chair situated against the opposite wall. He frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Eef zhis place waz only taken over zhree months ago, zhen zhey were 'olding zhem zomewhere else." he huffed and pushed himself up to his feet so he could get a closer look at the files for himself. "Eef zhey meant to juzt kill zhem, why were zhey keeping zhem around for zo long?"

Again, Syn pulled her eyes away from the glass to get involved in the conversation. "Killing them may not have been the point." she told them. "When Tiziano told them that I had been there, the wizard that was there knew I worked here and thought I had been sent as a spy. After they killed the bastard, he said something to the werewolves about 'cleaning up'. They were probably just killing them because it was the fastest way to hide what they were doing. He grabbed a bunch of stuff and took it with him when he apparated out, so there was obviously something there that he didn't want us to see."

Integra fixed her with an intent look. "Is there any magical reason to specifically target children?" she asked pointedly.

The redhead shuffled her feet uncomfortably and glanced at her cousin. He knew as well as she did that the reasons for it were never good. She carefully cleared her throat.

"Only very powerful, very dark magic would call for it." she began slowly. "Children are sometimes used by practioners of the Dark Arts whenever a virgin is needed because the younger they are, the easier it is to ensure their purity. As far as things that specifically **require** children as opposed to something else... there are dozens of different things it could be. There's no way to narrow it down without more information. But..." she paused to shove her hair back behind her ears. "I personally don't know of anything that calls for this many. One or two, maybe, but not large groups of them."

"Damn it." The knight swore under her breath. "So we have no idea what the purpose of all this was?"

Syn shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not." she admitted.

Integra pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, tired sigh. "If the children were being held in a different location for months before being taken to that club, it's probably safe to assume there are others. I'll tell the police to notify us about anything unusual, and we'll need to keep an eye on the missing children's lists. This is Hellsing's problem now."

Werewolves being involved automatically moved the issue under their jurisdiction. The presence of a wizard made things more complicated. The Ministry of Magic would need to be notified at some point as well - though none of them expected that to turn out well. Integra handed out assignments to those who were free and they disbursed to carry them out. Only she, Syn, and Alucard were left in the room. As the knight turned to take her stack of files back to her office for study, the redhead stopped her.

"Sir Integra?" she questioned. "May I see her file?"

Integra slowly turned back around to regard her solemnly. Syn didn't usually handle things like that unless she were asked, so the request was a bit strange. However, she had just spent a good deal of time trying to keep that girl alive, so she would at least like to know who she was. Integra seemed to realize that and searched through the documents in her arms to locate the correct one. She silently passed it over. Syn accepted the papers and looked down to read. The girl's name was Ylenia. A bit odd sounding, but maybe that was a traditional name amongst gypsies. She hadn't been around enough of them to know for sure. And according to her record, she had gone missing immediately after the deaths of her parents. It had been a violent attack which was initially unsolved, then labeled as being due to wild animals. The redhead couldn't hold back her disapproving sniff. The damn werewolves had probably killed them. She placed all the papers back into the file and handed it back to Integra.

"It says her parents were killed before she went missing." she said somberly, then glanced back to the window looking into the room where the doctors were performing surgery on her throat. "Sir... what's going to happen to her?"

One of the knight's brows went up a hair, curious as to why she was asking. "We will attempt to locate any surviving family members. If none can be found, she'll probably be sent to an orphanage."

Syn's lips pressed together in a firm line as she descended into her thoughts. She was quiet for so long that Alucard's posture noticably straightened in interest.

_What are you thinking, goddess?_ he questioned in her mind.

_The exact same thing you are, and we both know it._ she replied. _Haven't you been saying you need a brunette to complete your collection?_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his eyes light up in understanding, then the tilt of his head as he considered it. _Hmm... She does remind me of a younger version of you._

Integra noticed the exchange between them and narrowed her eye.

"Out with it." she said firmly. "You have that look."

Syn turned away from Alucard to blink at her. "What look?"

"The look you had on your face when he brought Mihnea home." the knight replied with a frown. "I will remind you that no matter what the circumstances were, he was biologically yours. A six year old girl isn't a stray puppy that can be taken in off the street whenever you please."

"But she was bitten, Integra." the redhead pointed out. "I've never heard of a werewolf biting someone while they're in human form before. There's no way of knowing if she's been infected, or to what degree until the full moon. If she has lycanthrophy, there's no way in hell she could go to an orphanage."

"That's assuming that she has no family to take her in." Integra said. "If her family was in Alucard's service, then they'll surely understand lycanthropy and may be willing to look after her."

Alucard chose that moment to get involved. "Gypsies have very close-knit societies which must follow strict standards." he told her. "If others believe that she's been tainted by a monster, she'll be shunned." he made a sweeping hand gesture. "She **technically **already belongs to me."

The lady knight's good eye narrowed. "That can't be legally enforced, Alucard."

"Any relatives she has would belong to me as well." he countered. "**If** there are any to be found, I can guarantee they wouldn't challenge it."

Integra slowly looked back and forth between the two of them, not angry or upset, but thoughtful. After studying the redhead for a moment, she turned her attention back to the vampire.

"I can understand Syn's reasoning, but what do you want with her?" she asked pointedly. "With the extent of her injuries, she may wind up being disabled for the rest of her life."

Alucard only chuckled. "What you humans view as disability, I see as opportunity." he said. "She displays the spirit of a fighter, master. And you know very well that I have a particular talent for taking so called 'damaged' little girls and molding them into powerful women."

Syn didn't like the No Life King implying that she had been a 'damaged little girl', but he had a point. For all of his faults, that was one thing he was **really** good at. Integra knew it too. After all, she had been a young girl herself once and even if she had been the master, she still spent her teenage years under his influence. The knight may have been a completely different person if Alucard hadn't been around to help her develop her backbone of steel. Integra reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, then sighed.

"Fine." she said. "I'll allow it." she dropped her hand from her face to point in their direction. "But this is the last time, do you understand? I'm not running an adoption agency here."

The redhead quickly nodded. "Absolutely, sir." she agreed. "Understood."

"Good." the lady knight said with a tone of finality. With that, she turned on her heel to walk out.

* * *

><p>Hermione had no idea what was in that potion that Bassarab had given her, but it was positively miraculous. It worked so well that aside from a few short snatches of time where she woke up long enough to check the time and switch positions, she didn't actually get out of bed until Sunday afternoon. Surprisingly, the girl wasn't particularly bothered by being out for so long. She had experienced the most restful sleep she had had in months, and being deprived of the nightmares was an enormous relief. Feeling more like herself than she had in ages, Hermione came to a realization.<p>

Her friends were right. She was doing too much. The girl still firmly believed that she was capable of carrying a large workload, but maybe... maybe now wasn't the right time. She was under a lot of stress and her health - and **grades** - were suffering for it. Perhaps it was better to stick with what she knew she could excel at rather than biting off more than she could chew and only be mediocre.

Repeating that as a sort of internal mantra, Hermione gathered up her resolve and headed down to Professor McGonagall's office. She hesitated outside the door and had to take a moment to talk herself out of leaving. This was the right thing to do. The girl took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, then knocked on the door. When her Head of House called out for her to enter, Hermione went inside and found the woman sitting at her desk rifling through paperwork. Probably working on a bit of grading before going down to supper. McGonagall looked up from her desk to see who it was, then instructed her to sit down in a calm, yet stern tone of voice. The girl should have known she would be upset about her skipping classes on Friday. It was something she had never done before, so there was no way it would have gone unnoticed. The professor didn't try to give her a lecture about her behavior. She only slipped off her reading glasses and sat back in her chair, saying that she was very disappointed in her and wanted an explanation. There was no need to go into specifics because they both knew what she was talking about. For a moment, Hermione wasn't really sure what to say. She didn't like the idea of making excuses for herself, and anything she came up with in her mind didn't feel like a good enough response. Finally, she decided to just spit it out and let the chips fall where they may. The girl didn't give any details about what had happened, but she told the woman that her parents had died over the holidays and she hadn't really allowed herself any time to process it. That, on top of her near constant worry for Harry's well being and her large course load had her at wits end, and she supposed that on Friday, she had 'snapped'.

Hermione was a little surprised that she didn't start crying. Maybe she had done that enough. But she was taken aback to see that McGonagall looked like **she** might start. Every trace of her displeasure faded into a quiet sort of understanding and sympathy. The moment she heard about her parents, the professor got up and came around to the front of her desk to sit in the chair next to her. She said she had thought the girl had been acting a little out of character lately, but hadn't known the reason - then gently chided her for not coming to her sooner. Of course, it would be no problem to change her schedule. The woman had been concerned that the number of classes she signed up for would be too much from the beginning. After a brief discussion, Hermione agreed to drop Divination and Muggle Studies. She didn't really like the idea of dropping one of her favorite classes, but McGonagall made her feel better about the decision by informing her that muggleborn students often took the Muggle Studies OWL without taking the class itself to give themselves an extra credit. The girl wasn't sure how she managed to do it, but she convinced the woman that she didn't need to drop anything else. Care of Magical Creatures was actually quite interesting, and there was no way she was going to give up Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. She would be able to keep her time-turner for the time being, however she agreed that if she felt overwhelmed, she would bring it to McGonagall's attention right away and they would change her schedule accordingly.

With that out of the way, Hermione headed down to the Great Hall for supper, feeling the weight on her shoulders considerably lightened. Connie would be proud of her, she thought. She would have searched her out straight away to tell her about it, but she was nowhere to be found. When the girl entered the hall, she only saw Harry and all the Weasleys (minus Percy) huddled together like they were having a serious conversation. Curious, she went over to join them.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, his head shooting up when he saw her. "Bloody hell, we were starting to get worried about you!"

Harry immediately waved a hand to shush him, then looked her over as she sat down. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Connie said you'd be fine, but you were out for a long time..."

"I'm fine." she said with a bright smile. "**Wonderful**, in fact. I can't remember the last time I slept so well." she paused to look around at the food laid out on the table. "Gosh, it all looks so good... I'm starving!"

Next to her, Ginny's lips pulled up into a small smile. "Well, I suppose you would be after sleeping for two days." she said.

She pushed a plate toward her and Hermione eagerly accepted it, leaning across the table to fill it with a selection from every dish she could reach. The boys and Ginny just watched silently as she sat back down to eat. After she took a few bites of roast beef, Harry cleared his throat.

"Hagrid asked about you." he said slowly. "He was a little worried because you never miss, but we told him you weren't feeling well."

The girl nodded absentmindedly and thanked him for taking care of that for her, then remembered something. Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Oh, that's right! Buckbeak's trial was on Friday, wasn't it? How did it go? Have you heard anything yet?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look between themselves. "Well..." Ron began with a cough. "It... didn't go so great."

Hermione's face fell. "Oh no..." she muttered sadly. "Did he say why? Connie and I worked so hard on that defense and I was sure it was perfect."

"Hagrid said it had nothing to do with your defense." Harry assured her. "It was nothing you did. But Malfoy was there and he made out like Buckbeak was a bloodthirsty monster..."

Ron nodded. "Honestly, the sorry sot probably paid off the judges to get the verdict he wanted." he said with a derisive sniff. "They set an execution date in June. Hagrid's really torn up about it. We told him we'd come down to see him before... you know, for moral support. We figured you'd want to come too."

Oh, that was so sad. She'd worked so hard to help Buckbeak get off, and now to find out he was going to be killed anyway? It was heartbreaking. She quickly nodded to show that she would indeed go with them to be with Hagrid before the execution. He loved his animals fiercely, so he'd need it.

"Is that what you're all so somber about?" she asked as she picked up her fork again. "And where's Connie? Has she heard about this yet?"

Something about the question made all of them stiffen and look around nervously. Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "She's not here." she said.

Hermione blinked in confusion. "What?"

The twins, who had been unusually quiet and reserved, both leaned over. "She's gone." they said in unision.

"Bassarab too." Fred added. "Dumbledore came and pulled them out of Potions on Friday to go home."

Harry and Ron looked at each other again. "Then this was in the newspaper yesterday morning." Ron said, and passed over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Needless to say, Hermione was a bit bewildered, and anxious, about their attitudes. It had to be something serious if all of them were acting so strangely. Silently, she took the newspaper to search for the article they were talking about. It didn't take much work to find it. It was plastered all over the front page.

_Purgatorium Incident Raises Questions About the Hellsing Organization's Methods_

_In the early hours of Friday morning, the Hellsing Organization conducted a raid on Purgatorium - a London nightclub which is known to cater to members of the vampire underground. The muggle press is reporting that the event was prompted by a police investigation which showed the establishment was engaging in some form of illegal activity. Hellsing claims that their raid uncovered a human trafficking ring operating out of the club's basement. There were a number of children between the ages of five and eight years old which were found dead upon their arrival, and it appears they had been horribly mistreated and kept in cages for a number of months. Hellsing has also made the shocking declaration that it is not vampires who are responsible, but a group of werewolves._

_These are the 'facts' as presented to the muggle population. The Prophet, however, has learned from a trusted source who was present during the raid that Hellsing's story doesn't match up with what actually happened. This witness has requested to remain anonymous and will henceforth be referred to as 'BG'._

_"I don't know where this business about werewolves came from." BG is quoted as saying. "There wasn't a full moon that night, and it was a club for vampires. It should be obvious, even to ordinary people, who was responsible."_

_When questioned about the children discovered in the establishment's basement, he said: "There were definitely children there. That much is true. But what Hellsing isn't telling anyone is that all of those children were half-bloods that came from families with one magical parent. It was young wizards and witches being held captive there. Another thing they'll never admit is that they were very much alive before the Hellsing Organization arrived, but were dead by the time they left."_

_Chilling words. While there is no hard evidence showing that Hellsing is directly responsible for the deaths, the fact remains that the children were killed behind closed doors. With no witnesses to verify what happened, Hellsing can effective claim anything they want and it would be impossible to disprove it._

_But if werewolves weren't involved, why is the Hellsing Organization going to such lengths to point the finger away from the most obvious suspects? A telling clue comes forward as the story grows stranger. BG reports that one Syn Newsom had not only been at the club earlier that night, but had actually been contracted by the owner to provide 'entertainment' for it's customers. One can only imagine the sort of questionable things a person must do to entertain vampires. He also claims that she was accompanied by a male vampire, was wearing a herald marking her as his property, and behaved in a manner which suggested that the pair had a physical relationship. This isn't the first time she's been connected with this vampire either. Miss Newsom has been seen in public with her unknown vampiric companion numerous times for the past several __years__ and, in fact, has provided 'entertainment' for many other vampire clubs in that span of time. For those of our readership who aren't aware, Miss Newsom is the weapons master and magical authority for the Hellsing Organization and often serves as an advisor to Sir Integral Hellsing herself. This strongly implies that the rumors of Hellsing having vampires in their employ are true, or that Miss Newsom is engaged in a highly inappropriate relationship with one of the very creatures she is supposed to hunt. It should also be noted that Miss Newsom is a member of the powerful Newsom family - which has been exiled from the magical world due to their unnatural affinity for black sorcery. Both she and Sir Hellsing have openly displayed antagonistic attitudes toward magical society as a whole and have made violent threats against prominent members of the Ministry of Magic without provocation on numerous occasions. _

_When questioned as to whether he thought it were possible that Miss Newsom or her vampire companion were responsible for holding the children captive and Hellsing was placing the blame elsewhere to protect one of their own, BG grew quite nervous._

_"Well, there's no way of knowing, is there?" he said. "They've set it up where everyone has to take them at their word. Hellsing is a muggle organization and that Newsom woman is exiled from our world. They aren't subject to magical law, and they're too powerful to be held accountable by the muggle government. That's one of the reasons I don't want my name printed. I wouldn't be surprised if they started saying wizards were involved, then use that to come after me for saying too much."_

There was a good deal more to the article, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to read further. Her mouth fell open and she looked up at her friends in horror.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, tossing the paper down onto the table. "This... this is slander! They put this rubbish on the **front page**?" She whirled in her seat to face the twins head on. "Is this why they left?"

Fred and George both frowned in disgust. "They didn't say." they said together.

"Dumbledore just walked in and said they had to go home straight away." George said.

Fred nodded in agreement. "Neither of them knew what it was about."

"The paper says this mess happened early Friday morning." George pointed out. "Connie and Mihnea left later that same day, so that has to be the reason for it."

"But..." Hermione began, suddenly distraught. "They're coming back, aren't they?"

George opened his mouth to respond, but Ron beat him to it. "Connie sent George a letter yesterday." he reported. "Didn't she, George?"

"I was getting to that, if you'd shut up a minute!" George spat in irritation. He huffed at his brother, then turned back to Hermione. "Connie sent something to me saying that it would take too long to write out in a letter, but she would explain everything when she got back. She and Mihnea are supposed to come back sometime today."

Well, that was a relief, at least. After reading that article and hearing that the two of them had been pulled out of class, the girl had been worried that their parents might have pulled them out of school for some reason. With the Prophet essentially accusing their family of murdering magical children, there was no telling what steps they might take to ensure their safety. How the devil did something like this happen? The Daily Prophet was supposed to be a respectable publication, not a gossip rag! If they were going to make such huge unfounded accusations, how much of the rest of the story could be believed?

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do but wonder until Connie and Mihnea got back. The six of them waited around in the Great Hall until supper was officially over and they no longer had an excuse to stay there. It was getting late, and students were expected to go back upstairs to prepare for class the next day. They hung back out of the crowds and walked very slowly, hoping to encounter them in the hallway. Sure enough, as they were about to reach the Grand Staircase, Ginny happened to catch sight of Constance and Mihnea rounding a corner side by side. She grabbed at the boys' arms to get their attention, then shouted over to them.

"Hey! We were starting to get worried!"

All of them stopped to allow them time to catch up to them. Bassarab stayed a few steps behind Connie, carrying one of her bags for her and absentmindedly browsing through a book as he walked. When the pair reached them, Constance let out a long, tired sigh and slumped her shoulders.

"Hey, I'm sorry for being late." she said as she greeted them. "We were doing stuff at home and didn't expect it to take so long. We just flooed into Professor Dumbledore's office."

As they were waiting for most of the other students to go on up so that they could talk without having to worry about being overheard, Bassarb came to a halt beside his cousin and looked up from his book. He peered over each of them for a second before focusing on Hermione.

"You look better, Granger." he commented.

Hermione blinked, surprised that he was addressing her first. "Um... thank you." she replied. "I feel better. I don't know what that stuff was, but it worked wonders. I slept all weekend."

He quirked a brow. "I told you it would knock you out on your ass." he reminded her. "Any problems?"

She shook her head. "None." she told him.

"Good." he said with a nod. "Let me know if you ever need more. I've got plenty."

She opened her mouth to thank him, but Ron - apparently finding their exchange weird - decided to butt in to figure out what was going on.

"What did you give her anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

Mihnea turned to look down his nose at him. "None of your damn business, Weasley." he replied.

The ginger haired boy immediately took a nervous step back. Hermione rolled her eyes and held up hands to get involved in the conversation.

"I haven't been sleeping well, so he gave me something to help." she told him. "I thought you knew that?"

Harry looked at her curiously. "All we knew was that before Connie left, she told Fred and George to tell us to leave you alone and you would be fine."

"Oh." Hermione said. Perhaps there hadn't been enough time to communicate the specifics of what was going on. "Well, now you know." She shook her head and finally noticed the title of the book Bassarab was reading. "Is that... a book about sign language?"

Mihnea looked down at the book, then back up at her. "Wow, Granger, you can read. Very impressive."

Hermione wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest. Did he have to be so abrasive all the time? "It was only a question." she said with a sniff. "You don't have to be a dumbass about it."

Bassarab didn't look the least bit upset about the jab, but did hold up a finger to correct her. "Smartass." he said. "I don't care what else you think of me, but I am **not** dumb."

Constance made a face at him and gave him a backhanded swat to the chest to make him shut up. In the midst of their little discussion, the rest of the students had gone ahead and they were now able to speak freely. Ginny cleared her throat to get back to their purpose.

"So what did you have to go home for?" she questioned.

"Yeah." Fred piped up. "Was it about that 'Purgatorium' thing?"

Connie and Mihnea both went very still. Bassarab narrowed his eyes at him consideringly.

"How did you know about that?" he demanded quietly.

George took step back in surprise. "It's all over the newspapers." he told him. He looked back and forth between the two of them. "You guys didn't know?"

"The **magical** newspaper?" Connie exclaimed in shock. "No, we didn't know!"

Since neither of them knew what they were talking about, Ron pulled out his copy of the Daily Prophet and extended it out to them. Constance quickly grabbed it and opened it to read. Her eyes grew wider and wider with every sentence.

"Oh, this is bad..." she whispered to herself, then touched her cousin's arm. "Mihnea, read this."

Bassarab obligingly leaned over to get a look at the paper over her shoulder. After a few moments of reading, his face darkened and he angrily snatched the newspaper away from her.

"**Excuse** me?" he demanded.

It was understandable that he would be angry after reading what they had written about his mother, but they didn't think his reaction would be as strong as it was. He was so violently upset by what he saw that Hermione was sure his eyes quickly shift from green to red and then back again. She aparently wasn't the only who noticed it either because their entire group took a healthy step back away from him. Connie was upset as well. Of course, they had every reason to be, but as it turned out, their reasons for it were a bit different than they were expecting.

"When was this published?" Constance asked them hurriedly.

Harry turned his nervous gaze away from Mihnea long enough to answer her. "It's the Saturday morning edition." he reported, then nudged Ron in the side. "That's when it came in, right?"

Ron nodded in confirmation and Connie and her cousin shared a long, meaningful look between themselves.

"Mom said there was a wizard there." Bassarab said quietly. "There's no way they know this much unless it's him."

Fred and George both gave a start. "Wait a minute!" they said in unison. "What are you on about?"

Constance took a deep breath to calm herself, then squared her shoulders. "This raid they're talking about took place after the club was closed. There were no witnesses." she told them. "The only ones in the building when we attacked were the owner, three werewolves, and a wizard. Aunt Syn said the wizard apparated out the moment he saw them and others didn't survive. We haven't told any muggle newspapers about werewolves being involved, so the only way the Prophet would have all this information is if this 'BG' person is the wizard who was there that night."

Ginny's eyes went wide. "Oh my g..." she stopped herself short and shook her head. "But if he was there, couldn't you guys just report it to the Ministry? Maybe they could make the Prophet do a retraction."

Bassarab shook his head. "It doesn't work that way." he said, then held up the newspaper. "People are more likely to believe the first thing they read - especially in a paper like this. That's why Hellsing never clears a release of information to the public until we're sure we have the facts straight. This guy just got himself a prime piece of real estate on the front page telling the world that we're going to blame wizards for this mess just to have an excuse to track him down. If we try to make them report what actually happened, everyone will see it as a confirmation that this bastard was right. It doesn't matter how much proof we give them. Hellsing will still be the bad guy and he'll still be the victim."

Connie frowned pointedly at the paper. "This is a political move. Giving the people just enough of the truth to make the story believable, then twisting the rest so it looks how they want it to." she looked thoughtful for a second, then glanced at Ron. "Do you mind if I send it home? This is something mom needs to see."

"Uh... sure." Ron replied with a nod. "Go ahead."

"I'll send it." Bassarab offered immediately. "I need to find Luna anyway." he took Connie's bag off of his shoulder and passed it to her. "You're going to tell them?"

Constance glanced at all of them sideways, then looked back at him. "I have to, Mihnea." she said quietly. "They're going to find out eventually."

Mihnea studied her for a long moment, then sniffed and shrugged. The newspaper and his book in hand, he turned on his heel to walk off without saying another word. Connie pulled the bag he had given her onto her shoulder and motioned toward the stairs.

"We can talk while we walk." she said.

No one put up an arguement, so they all fell into step around her as they made their way upstairs.

"So..." Harry prodded. "How much of that story is true?"

Hermione was interested in hearing that herself. Connie sighed deeply and moved to readjust the bag on her shoulder. George noticed and took hold of the strap to pull it off of her.

"Give me that thing." he said. Constance opened her mouth as if to say that she could carry it herself, but he thrust a finger into her face. "Don't argue, I'm carrying it. Just talk."

Her mouth snapped shut and she rolled her eyes at his actions, then turned back to Harry. She gave them a quick overview of the situation and what had been done about it. Everything about all the people who had mysteriously died, infiltrating the club for the police because they suspected drugs, discovering the werewolves and the children in a room that had been warded with magic... It sounded like the Prophet had actually gotten most of the details right, but hadn't interpreted them correctly.

"If that's the way of it, what on earth were werewolves doing in a place where vampires meet up?" Ron asked. "Don't vampires and werewolves avoid each other like the plague? And what did they want with little kids?"

"We're still trying to figure that out." Connie replied. "In all honestly, the werewolves may have set up in a vampire club because it was a great place to hide. No one would ever expect them to be there. But as for why a wizard was helping them and why they were targeting young children... we don't know. All we know is that those kids had been on missing persons lists for a long time, so it's not like they were just snatched and taken there. They were being held somewhere else and moved there recently. Mom thinks there are probably more out there that we haven't found yet."

Ginny gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "That's so awful..."

Constance pressed her lips into a firm line and nodded. "And it's not true that there weren't any survivors. The werewolves were killing them to keep us from finding out what they were doing, but aunt Syn and Alucard managed to break into the room in time to save one. A six year old girl." she noticeably paused like she found what she was about to say incredibly sad. "One of the werewolves tore out her throat with his teeth. She's alive, but there was too much damage to her vocal chords to fix. She'll never be able to talk again. Her parents were murdered before she was kidnapped and she doesn't have any other family willing to take her in, so mom agreed to let Alucard and aunt Syn keep her." she stopped walking to look at each of them in turn. "That's why we went home for the weekend. Mihnea has a new little sister now, and they thought it was best for us to go ahead and meet so that we could... get used to the idea before we come home for the summer."

Wow... having something like that sprung on you out of nowhere would certainly take some getting used to. Hermione was stunned. "So that's why Mihnea was reading that book about sign language?" she asked.

The girl before her nodded. "Since she won't be able to speak, Alucard and aunt Syn are going to teach her how to use sign language. It's something all of us will have to learn."

Everyone was taken aback by the story. It was incredibly touching to hear that they were taking in a little girl who had nowhere to go, but the circumstances made it absolutely astounding. Constance took in their amazed expressions and went on.

"We didn't know the children were witches and wizards either." she said. "Mom will be interested in hearing that. But... I guess it makes sense because Ylenia is a gypsy and most gypsies are magical. We just figured we'd have to wait until she was older to find out..."

"Ylenia?" George asked.

"She's the one Mihnea's parents are keeping." Connie explained. "Her name is Ylenia." She noticed all of them looking around at each other and cleared her throat. "Anyway, she was bitten by the werewolf while he was in human form, so we're not really sure if she's infected or not. I imagine they'll know for certain after the full moon tonight."

Ginny studied her for a moment. "Wow." she breathed. "So... you might have a werewolf in the family now?"

"Possibly." Constance replied with a shrug.

"Whoa..." Ron said.

Harry's face slowly lit up into a bright smile. "That's kind of cool." he declared.

"It's right **wicked** is what it is!" The twins said, then exchanged a mischevious look between themselves.

"Newsoms." Fred said.

George grinned. "Hellsings."

"Vampires."

"And werewolves."

They wiggled their fingers at each other. "Oh my!" they exclaimed in enthusiam, then started dancing a merry jig like they had come up with the cleverest play on the 'lions, tigers, and bears' rhyme that had ever been.

Fred did a little half turn and skidded to a halt. "Hey, since she's so little, do you think if she transforms she'll look like a puppy?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "How could you say such a thing?" she asked in disapproval. "That's so insensitive!"

"Insensitive my left foot." he countered with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, Granger, it's called 'humor'. You should try it sometime."

She personally thought there was a difference between having a sense of humor and poking fun at someone so soon after a terrible event. But then, Connie didn't seem to take it badly so maybe there wasn't much point in berating them for it. Fred and George made fun of almost everything, so it wasn't that unusual.

They finally got up to the Gryffidor dormitory and headed up to their respective rooms. As she and Constance climbed the stairs up to the room they shared, Hermione carefully cleared her throat.

"I talked to Professor McGonagall about my schedule today."

Connie's steps slowed and she turned to look at her. "You did?"

The girl nodded, then took a deep breath. "You guys were right. I've been working myself too hard and nothing good was coming of it, so I dropped two classes."

For a few seconds Constance only studied her, then her face slowly lit up with approval. "Oh, Hermione, that's wonderful!" she said. She reached over to give her hand a squeeze. "It's about time too! I was beginning to think I'd have to knock you over the head and drag you there myself."

Hermione smiled softly. "Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore." she told her, then became thoughtful. "You know... it's funny, but I don't think I realized how bad I felt until I woke up today feeling so great. How on earth did you guys put up with me?"

"Very carefully." Connie replied in a dead-pan tone. She smiled to show that she was joking, then looked her over. "Mihnea told me he gave you one of his potions. I don't know what made him do it, but I'm glad he did. You look **so** much better."

She was glad he had too. And perhaps now that she had given in and cut out some unnecessary stressers, things would start to get better. Not 'normal'... but better.

* * *

><p>A.N: For all of you Mihnea fans out there, I have put up a drawing of him on my DeviantArt account. I've been working on designs for my other characters, but he's the first I've drawn that I'm actually happy with. So now you can know what he looks like and are free to go drool over him if you wish! YAY!<p>

(Don't deny it. You know you want to.)

Review!


	62. Interrogation

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

No one at Hellsing was particularly surprised by the Daily Prophet article. Well... that wasn't entirely true. They were a bit taken aback by how readily they printed this 'BG' person's story without stopping to wonder how they knew so much. But putting a hateful, misleading story on the front page for all to read? No, that wasn't surprising at all. Syn was just a little disgruntled that they accused her of kidnapping and murder with no evidence to back it up. Being called names was something she had been forced to get used to over the years, but this... this was bigger and far more serious.

Keeping the redhead's fiery temper in mind, Sir Integra gave her some time off to clear her head. The lady knight would engage in a political chessmatch with the Ministry to figure out what was going on with them. They hadn't recieved a response yet. The damn wizards were probably embarrassed that they'd been caught and were scrambling to come up with a good story to save face.

Since Syn wasn't allowed to participate for the time being, she decided to distract herself with other things that deserved her attention. Namely, the six year old girl still cooped up in the hospital wing.

Ylenia was proving to be an interesting challenge. The redhead had known from the start that there would be difficulties with her. The poor girl had gone through a traumatic experience that could break an adult, so it was unreasonable to think she wouldn't be affected by it. It was just that when she woke up from her surgeries and listened to Syn explain the situation the best way she knew how, she didn't react anything like she expected her to. The girl didn't become confused, start crying, or beg to go back home. She just lay in her bed, staring at her with a blank expression, then nodded in acceptance. That was all. No emotional response whatsoever. The redhead thought that surely she felt **something**. Perhaps she was still in shock, or too overwhelmed by all the information to process it all. She even began to worry that the monsters in that basement room may have done something to the girl that left her an empty, hollow shell of a person. Alcuard gave her a much needed dose of reality by explaning that her actions most likely orginated from her culture. Apparently, the gypsies believed that when a death occured, a strict time period of grieving followed. Once that time ended, all grief came to a halt and the dead were never mentioned again to prevent them from turning into evil spirits that would haunt the living. Ylenia was already aware that her parents were dead and had probably gone through this process while she was held captive. If that was the case, her time of grief had been completed and there was no reason for her to get emotional. The vampire also told her that gypsy children were raised to be obedient to their authority figures and respect them without question. If the girl wore his herald, then her parents would have explained to her what it meant. They would have told her stories about him at the very least so that she would know who he was and their relationship to him. With her parents gone, Ylenia would naturally accept the authority of the next appropriate person who was around - which was Alucard. And since most gypsies who belonged to him were aware that he had a human consort with blood-red hair, the girl quickly figured out who Syn was and accepted her as well.

The whole thing was very strange and difficult for Syn to understand, but it explained a lot. A person's culture and system of beliefs was a big part of who they were, so even if she didn't 'get it', it was something she'd have to work with. From the way things were playing out, it seemed that Ylenia's odd superstitions would work in their favor and make the transition easier.

Of course, at this point Syn pretty much had to take Alucard at his word because he was one of the few in the manor who could effectively communicate with the girl. Until they all learned sign language, they could talk to her all day long but she wouldn't be able to say anything back. The vampires had the benefit of being able to read minds, so she could give them instant feedback with no room for misunderstanding. Maybe that was why she latched on to him so quickly. The redhead would have thought she would take to Seras or Pip faster, but that wasn't the case. Ylenia was a little nervous the first time she saw him but after Alucard spent a few hours alone with her, she began acting like she had known him her entire life. She did that with Mihnea too, funnily enough. Syn had no idea why she chose those two to bond with first, but at least she wouldn't have to convince the girl that she didn't have to be afraid of them.

That was the other worry Syn had that turned out to be unfounded. She had been concerned what her son would think about them taking the girl in and talked to Integra and Edmund about bringing him home for the weekend so that they would have a proper introduction. Lord knows she didn't want him to start thinking that he had been replaced with something new and shiny now that he was almost grown. They both thought it was a good idea and requested that Dumbledore allow Connie to come home as well. It was best for them to go ahead and get prepared for the change of having someone new in the house. The children were both a little shocked by the news, but took it as graciously as possible. Mihnea, who was Syn's primary concern, looked completely befuddled by the idea - like he had no idea what to think or feel about it. When the redhead took him aside to talk to him about it privately, he brushed off all implications of the girl taking his place as 'stupid' - but she could still see the awkwardness in him. However, when she took him to Ylenia's room so he could see her for himself, all traces of that discomfort slowly faded away. To Mihnea, she was no longer an idea but an actual person, and when he saw the shape she was in, he immediately grew angry. The redhead figured that show of protectiveness was a good sign. The two of them had several long conversations during the children's stay and by the time they had to return to Hogwarts, Mihnea appeared to be rather excited at the prospect of having a baby sister. Constance... well, she had more difficulty in the communication department, but she was sympathetic to the girl's plight and wasn't at all upset at the thought of having her around. But whatever time they spent together must have gone relatively well, because Ylenia was already asking when the two of them would be coming back home.

So with those things out of the way, the only thing left for them to worry about was whether or not the werewolf's bite had done anything to her. There had been a full moon Sunday night, but Ylenia remained human. The only thing of note that occured was that she appeared to grow more agitated, restless, and refused to sleep. It was **possible** that the moon had something to do with that, but one also had to take into account that she was a young girl who had been stuck in the hospital wing for several days with an injury. Such actions could be attributed to being bored out of her skull. However, Syn was given to believe there was more to it than that. Ylenia bounced back from her surgery a lot faster than a child her age should have - and when the full moon began to wane, she immediately became lethargic for no discernable reason. The redhead thought that was a strong indicator of the energy and mood cycle werewolves went through. That there had been no physical transformation may have been due to the seriousness of her injury. She was newly bitten - so the 'virus' (or whatever you wished to call it) may not have have had time to fully take hold - and her body may have been conserving what energy it had to heal itself. The vampires, who had all been nearby just in case, all unanimously declared that her scent changed, so something was definitely going on. They would just have to wait until the next full moon to see if there would be a difference.

A month's worth of waiting meant plenty of time to get to know each other. And there was no better way to bond with a six year old than by offering to color with them. It appeared that Ylenia had never encountered 'color by numbers' pictures before, so Syn immediately took it as a teaching opportunity.

"It looks kind of funny, doesn't it?" the redhead asked, seeing the bewildered look on the girl's face as she studied the open coloring book laying on the bed between them. She pointed to one of the divided sections. "It will all make sense in the end. Each number is a color, see? One is blue, two is green, three is red, four is yellow... and when they're all filled in, you'll be able to see what the picture is. Make sense?"

Ylenia peered at her thoughtfully, then extended a finger toward the page and pulled the sheets up over her head to hide herself. It didn't take much effort to figure out what she meant.

"That's right!" Syn said with an approving smile. "The picture is hiding and it's your job to figure out what it is. Very good." she picked up the coloring book to flip through the pages. "Which one would you like to do?"

It was kind of a dumb question question because as they were, they all looked exactly the same, but the girl had shown herself to be rather independent minded for her age. She appreciated being allowed to make choices for herself. After flipping about halfway through the book, Ylenia finally held out her hands to stop her. Syn pulled over the lap table to give them a hard surface to work on, then readjusted herself into a cross-legged position at the foot of the bed so that she could color the picture on the left, while the girl worked on the one on the right.

Some people might think she was full of hot air, but Syn believed you could learn a lot about a person from the way they did simple things like coloring in a picture. Every choice, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant, displayed a certain facet of their character. For example, she was beginning to see that Ylenia was a very careful, detail oriented girl. Most six year olds would scribble haphazardly with little care for where the lines were. This girl did nothing of the sort. She made very small, deliberate strokes of the crayon and never went outside the lines. She also appeared to have an appreciation for unusual things. She was never satisfied with using ordinary colors. When something called for red, she would search for something in the same color family that had a bit more flair to it. Every so often, she would grow bored with using a single color and switch to another. At the rate she was going, the sky of her picture was going to be eight different shades of blue. The redhead didn't take issue with that at all. There was nothing wrong with being a little quirky. To her, it displayed intelligence and creativity - which were good qualities to have.

They had each been working on their respective pictures for a good while when Syn felt an insistant vibration come from her pant leg. Ylenia looked up from the coloring book curiously as the woman fished her phone out of her pocket. It was Ghost. She'd almost forgotten she had given the guy her number. Her lips twisting into a thoughtful frown, she pushed herself upright to slide off the bed.

"I have to take this." she said apologetically, then gave the girl a gentle pat on the head. "Keep working on that pretty picture of yours and I'll be right back, okay?"

Ylenia studied her for a brief moment, then nodded in acceptance and went back to her coloring. Syn stepped out of the room and carefully pulled the door closed behind her before pressing a button on the phone to answer it.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't we?" she asked without bothering to say hello.

There was a short span of silence, then the young man caught on to the meaning of her unusual greeting.

"You said not to call before 10:00." he pointed out. "Last time I checked, 10:05 was after 10:00, so I'm legal." he paused for half a second. "I guess this means I don't have to remind you who I am, huh?"

"No, I know who you are." Syn replied in a tone that was shorter than she intended. "Listen, if you're calling about the interviews, I've been really busy the past few days and I haven't had time to talk to anyone. If you give me a few hours, I might be able to tell you something by the end of the d..."

"Hey, it's not a problem." Ghost interrupted, surprising her. "That's not the reason I called."

One of the redhead's brows rose slightly. "Okay... so what's this about then?"

"I think I may have given you a bad impression of me the other night and I wanted to fix it." he explained. "And... I wanted to talk to you about something."

Syn wasn't sure what he was up to, but she wasn't impressed with his approach. "You're talking to me now."

"I mean in person." Ghost clarified. "This isn't something I'm comfortable doing over the phone. There's a little coffee shop on Turnage Street. It's in public, but it's quiet so we wouldn't be interrupted. I'll buy you a cup of coffee. And before you say anything," he added quickly, as if he could see her mouth opening in protest. "I'm not getting up to any funny business. This is important."

The redhead closed her mouth. He sounded serious. After considering her options, she cleared her throat.

"Would this have anything to do with what happened at the club?" she asked.

"Yes."

That was all she needed to hear. Syn thought it over, then gave him her answer.

"Okay." she told him. "I'll see what I can do. Is there a certain time you were thinking of?"

"I'm free all day, so just call me and let me know when you can be there." Ghost replied. "And I'd appreciate it if you came alone. Don't bring your master with you."

That was an odd thing for him to be worried about, considering what time it was. Syn snorted.

"It's the middle of the day." she pointed out. "What makes you think he would be there?"

"I wasn't talking about the vampire and we both know it."

With that single, mysterious statement, she was left listening to the empty air of a dead line. The man had hung up without offering any further explanation. Suddenly, she was very interested in hearing what he had to say.

* * *

><p>While she didn't much like the idea of leaving her new charge so soon after visiting, it simply had to be done. Ylenia was a little disappointed by the news, but seemed to understand. Syn called for Rebecca to come stay with her while she was gone, then gave the girl her heartfelt assurance that she would come back as soon as possible.<p>

Once she was assured that Ylenia was taken care of for the time being, Syn headed up to Integra's office to talk to her about the phone conversation she had just had. The knight found it just as interesting as she did.

"Hmm..." she said thoughtfully as she leaned forward to clasp her hands in front of her. "This is the same young man you spoke to at the club?

Syn nodded. "Yes, sir. I didn't expect him to do something like this, but I suppose after the place was shut down the same night I was there asking questions, it wouldn't take much to assume there was a connection. He may think I'm an informant for you."

Integra pursed her lips together and moved to pull out one of her cigars. "With the way things are going, we could use any information we can get." she said as she lit the tip. "Though I don't like the idea of sending you out by yourself."

"He mentioned a coffee house." the redhead told her. "Granted, I don't know exactly what he wants to talk about but if he was up to no good, I don't think he'd offer to meet in a public place during the day." she stopped to consider how Ghost behaved during their last face-to-face encounter. "He seemed pretty nervous last time and it took some convincing to get him to talk to me. If he's worried about someone finding out what he's doing, I can see why he wouldn't want too many people around."

The lady knight took a long drag from her cigar. "Alright." she conceeded. "If you think you can get something useful out of him and you're comfortable going alone, I'll allow it." she then gave her a serious look over the tops of her glasses. "But be watchful, Syn. The last thing we need right now is to walk into some sort of trap. Stay in contact with Alucard the entire time and if you notice anything out of the ordinary, I want to be notified immediately."

Syn inclined her head. "Understood, sir."

That wouldn't be a problem, seeing as how the vampire king usually kept tabs on everything she did anyway. She probably wouldn't even have to wake him up. Sure enough, after she called Ghost to inform him that she could meet him in half an hour, Alucard's voice intruded into her mind.

_If this is the boy's way of getting a date with you, he'll be begging for death before I'm through with him._

Still with the jealousy, Syn wondered. Even though his badgering was annoying, it was still kind of nice that he was acting all possessive. But she'd be damned if she told him that. The gunsmith sniffed as she shoved her phone back into the pocket of her jeans.

_Please._ she thought back to him. _ If that's what this is, I'll be tearing into him myself._

Suddenly, she felt a new wave of interest from him. _Is that so, little goddess?_ he purred. _That's something I'd like to witness. I'll be watching closely._

_I'm sure you will._ she replied with a roll of her eyes, then tuned him out to focus on the task ahead.

When she arrived at the coffee shop Ghost mentioned, she understood why he had chosen it. The place was relatively small and situated in an area of the city that was active, but not so busy that it was distracting. Syn parked her bike in a spot out front and went inside. The atmosphere was pleasant and comfortable. Everything was immaculately clean and the large windows allowed in enough light to make the space feel open and bigger than it actually was. She didn't see the young man anywhere yet, but she had gotten there early. He might have gotten caught in traffic or something. The redhead decided to go ahead and order her coffee, then sit at one of the tables to wait. After giving the girl at the counter her order for an iced latte she pulled out her money to pay, but scarcely had the bills counted out before someone came up behind her and pushed her hand away.

"I told you I was paying." a familiar voice chided.

The redhead gave a start and blinked at the man now standing next to her. "Oh wow, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't recognize you." she narrowed her eyes at Ghost's solid black hair. "No white stripe anymore?"

He chuckled and rubbed his hand down over his bangs. "Yeah, well, being told you have skunk hair isn't the most flattering thing to hear." he said with a shrug. "I was thinking about getting rid of it anyway."

Syn pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I like it." she decided out loud. "You look better this way."

Ghost gave her a friendly smile and thanked her for saying so. You wouldn't think something so simple would make such a big difference, but that small change to his hair made him look like a completely different person. She wondered if it wasn't intentional to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb. She had certainly overlooked him. True to his word, the young man paid for her drink then invited her over to a secluded table in the corner once it was ready.

"Nice bike, by the way." he commented as they both sat down. "I didn't expect you to be the type."

The redhead arched a brow and took a sip from her cup. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Ghost waved a hand at her. "It's not disappointing at all." he assured her. "You just don't see many women riding them."

"I thought you would have figured out by now that I'm not like most women." she challenged, allowing her eyebrow to rise a notch higher.

"Oh, don't worry, I have." he said as he leaned back more comfortably. He shot a glance out the window at her motorcycle, then looked back at her. "It's kind of hot, actually."

Syn had been in the middle of taking a drink of her coffee, but wound up snorting and spiting it right back out. She wiped the back of her hand against her mouth, then leveled a serious look at him. Giving Alucard an excuse to show up and rip the guy to pieces was the last thing on her agenda this morning.

"Look kid," she began. "I appreaciate flattery as much as the next person, but you need to set your sights somewhere else. You're too young and you're not my type, so drop it."

Rather than taking offence, Ghost looked amused by her reaction. "That's right, I forgot. Your 'type' is tall, dark, and scary as hell with sharp pointy teeth." he said sarcastically. "How could a lowly human like me ever hope to compete with that?"

The redhead stared at him blandly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I hope for your sake that when you asked me to meet you, it was for something more important than flirting and talking about motorcycles."

He leaned back a bit and wrinkled his nose. "You can't fault a guy for trying." he said, apparently trying to explain away his actions. The young man sighed and decided to get down to business. "Listen, I'm not going to waste your time or mine by pretending that this is something it's not, but I've... come across some new information that I thought you needed to know. And I'll go ahead and warn you that you're probably not going to like what I have to say."

What a strange way to begin a conversation. He didn't even try to confirm who she was or who she worked for. Which... she assumed that he'd already put two and two together based on the evidence, but she would have thought he'd still ask. Feeling more than a little bewildered, she nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"Fine." she told him. "What is it?"

Without saying a word, Ghost leaned over to retrieve something from under his seat, then tossed a folded up newspaper onto the table. "I'm here because of this."

The redhead went very still and stared at the paper in shock. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet containing the article about Hellsing. Recognizing what it's presence meant, she looked back up and shot a scathing glare at the man sitting across the table.

"You sneaky little **shit**." she hissed. "You're one of them."

Ghost opened his mouth to respond, but Syn had already shoved herself back from the table to leave. The sound of Alucard's snarl rang through her mind and she knew he had probably just appeared in his master's office to inform her of the turn of events. This man was no victim or boy with a silly crush, but a goddamn **wizard**. A wizard who had seen things and knew far too much for her comfort. This was a set up. She got three steps away before a hand grabbed her arm from behind to make her stop.

"Wait!" Ghost said in a rushed whisper. "My name is Justin DuPre and I'm an auror at the Ministry of Magic. I was sent here to talk to you. I understand that you're angry and you don't have to like me, but at least listen to what I have to say." When she remained silent, he gave her arm an insistant squeeze. "**Please**."

Syn straightened her spine and shot a death glare at him over her shoulder. "If you like your testicles where they are, I suggest you get your filthy hands off of me."

Ghost - no, DuPre - immediately released his grip on her and took a step back, holding up his hands to show he wasn't a threat.

"I'm not here to fight." he told her. "I have official orders..."

"From **who**?" she demanded.

"Rufus Scrimgeour." he replied, then quickly glanced around to make sure they hadn't drawn too much attention to themselves. "Now will you please come sit down before you cause a scene?"

Syn honestly didn't give a damn if she caused a scene or not, but she had more than herself to think about. Keeping an eye on him to make sure he wouldn't try anything, she turned inward.

_What does Integra want me to do?_

The redhead couldn't make out all the details of the conversation going on at the manor, but she could tell the vampire was royally ticked off. Probably more because they'd been tricked than anything else. He hadn't picked up on the man being a wizard either. After a few moments of waiting, a decision was made.

_Hear him out._ Alucard told her. _For now_.

The woman took a deep breath to calm her nerves and beat back her temper. What were the wizards doing contacting **her** instead of Integra? It didn't bode well at all. And considering the contents of that article and what this man had seen with his own eyes... Syn would have to be extremely careful how she handled this. She slowly walked back to the table and put her hand on the back of the chair she'd been sitting in earlier.

"You have five minutes to convince me not to walk out of here." she said as she pulled it out to sit back down.

DuPre frowned pointedly as he returned to his own seat. "This is going to take a lot longer than five minutes."

The redhead narrowed her eyes. "Then you'd better come up with something worth listening to."

The man studied her for a moment like he was taken aback by the intensity of her attitude, then gave her a brisk nod.

"Fine." he said, then straightened himself into a more formal posture. "This case is one the Ministry has been keeping an eye on for a while now. We in the magical world are forced by necessity to keep our existence secret. However, we know that not every case of illegal magic will be reported - especially when it's used against muggles. We have highly trained people, 'sleeper agents' I suppose you'd call them, placed in various muggle agencies and businesses to keep their eyes open and ears to the ground so that if anything magical takes place, they can... gently prod the muggles to look in the other direction."

This was unbelievable. "Manipulate them with magic so they don't figure out the truth, you mean." Syn rephrased for him.

DuPre didn't show any overt reaction to her harsh statement. "If you choose to look at it that way, then yes." he admitted. "It's as much for their protection as it is for ours." he shook his head and got back to the point. "Anyway, when muggles die for no good reason or start doing things they wouldn't normally do, we take notice. Everything in this case pointed to the use of Unforgivable Curses. I'm sure you came to a similar conclusion yourself."

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest and remained silent. The man took that as a sign that he should probably keep going.

"People willing to throw around Unforgivable Curses like that tend to be dark wizards who are very good at covering their tracks." he said. "When the previous owner of Purgatorium was put under the imperius curse to facilitate the changing of hands, I was sent in undercover to try to figure out who was responsible. The situation intensified after the Pinkerton girl was killed and when we learned that the muggle police were turning to Hellsing for help, I was ordered to observe and assist where appropriate, but to stay out of your way. The entire thing was a jurdisdictional nightmare because we couldn't accurately determine who or what was involved or to what degree. Rufus believed it was in everyone's best interests to let your people handle it due to your being more skilled and better equiped when it comes to monsters."

Syn gaped at him. "So the Ministry's idea of letting Hellsing do it's job was to sit back and make us do all the dirty work, then print some bullshit story in one of your newspapers making out that the whole thing was our fault?" she demanded.

"Look, I don't make the rules here." DuPre insisted, though he did visibly wince. "I'm just telling you what my orders were. All we knew was the someone was killing muggles with magic and it was tied to something going on in that building. We didn't know about the children or the werewolves." he paused to give her a sideways look. "If they even **were** werewolves..."

The woman bristled. "They **were**." she said firmly. "And how did you not know about the children? If the Prophet wasn't lying about all of them being half-bloods, then surely the magical parents would have reported them missing. Or does your precious Ministry only care about what happens to pure-blooded children?"

The young man's face twisted into a hard expression. "You know as well as I do that kids go missing all the time. It's very unfortunate, but there was never a sudden surge of disappearances, so there was no way we could have known there was a connection."

Syn badly wanted to tear into him for his choice of words. Making it sound like children being kidnapped was no worse than getting a hangnail. However, she held herself back because deep down, she knew he was right. It was one of those awful, terrible things that not only happened, but occured on a regular basis. Picking a fight over something that ultimately had no point would be a waste a time. So she just sat there and glared him down for a few moments before taking a deep breath and running her hand back through her hair. She grabbed her coffee in irritation to drink down the latte before all of the ice melted.

"Why are you talking to me?" she asked pointedly. "Sir Integra has already contacted the Ministry about this to show that we're not hiding anything and we're open to collaborating with you. She's the boss here, so any official business needs to go through her."

DuPre arched a brow and casually leaned back in his chair. "Sir Integra isn't the one we're concerned about." he told her. "You are."

The redhead blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

His expression became more serious and he thrust a finger out toward the newspaper laying on the table between them. "That story wasn't approved by the Ministry and it should never have been printed. The editors at the Prophet have been disciplined and we've opened an investigation to find out who this 'BG' really is. But regardless of how questionable the source was, the article was designed to play upon very real fears that are present in our world. I can't speak for the others who have met her, but I know that Rufus believes that Sir Integra is a very honest, capable woman. Even if he doesn't always agree with her beliefs or methods, he has the impression that when she says something, she means it. You, on the other hand, are a more mysterious figure. The only thing anyone knows about you is what all the stories and rumours say. Sir Integra may be the most capable person in the world at her job, but she is still a muggle. You are the magical authority she turns to for explanations when things like this happen. All of that, coupled with the fact that you have **openly** done many things which can't easily be explained, has caused many within the Ministry to question where your true loyalties lie."

Syn's jaw clenched at the accusation he was throwing at her. "You people think I'm manipulating her so I can do whatever the hell I want and get away with it?"

"I don't know if I'd use the word 'manipulate', but we believe there's a strong possibility that her opinions may be colored by any personal biases you hold. And there are many who feel that Sir Integra may not be aware of the..." he paused as if searching for the right words. "**Full extent** of your activities outside her organization."

The redhead continued to meet his intent gaze whilst trying to keep her expression as unreadable as possible. "Sir Integra is aware of everything that I do." she told him. "In fact, I'm pretty sure she's aware of a few things about me she'd rather not know."

"Would you being owned by a vampire be one of those things?" DuPre asked, his voice surprisingly casual.

"What makes you think I'm owned by a vampire?"

"You were wearing a herald the other night." he pointed out.

She arched a brow. "Do you see me wearing one now?"

The man smiled as if he knew something she didn't. "You may not be wearing the flashy collar, but you do have **that**." he said, then pointed at her hand. "A ring on your left hand. Interesting design too. Now, either you're married and your husband loves dragons so much that he had the exact same image used by that vampire you were with engraved on your wedding ring, or it's a herald designed to be less noticable."

Syn just stared at him, wanting desperately to wipe that damn knowing smirk off of his face. He thought he'd caught her between a rock and a hard place with no room for escape. The position she found herself in wasn't the most ideal, but she'd been in too many uncomfortable situations in the past to let herself fall into a panic. It was time to start playing logic games. The redhead returned his self-assured grin with one of her own.

"Trust a wizard to think they've got it all figured out when they haven't stopped to consider the obvious." she said snidely. "When I am sent out on an undercover mission, part of my job is to get the vampires and their humans that I am surrounded by to trust me. Pretending to be one of them is the most efficient way to do that. I am not a bleeder, a donor, a pet, or a human servant to any vampire, so you can put the thought of me being 'owned property' out of your head. As for this," she held up her left hand to show her ring. "If you actually paid attention to what's in front of your face instead of assuming things, then you would know that this engraving is **not** the same as the herald I was wearing the other night. The only thing about the two that's similar is that both designs use dragons. I can also guarantee that if you did a little research, you would never encounter any herald which looks anything like the image on my ring. So nice try kid, but you're going to have to do better than that."

DuPre slowly leaned back away from her in surprise. It was clear he hadn't expected her to come with a response like that - or do it so quickly. The balance of power had shifted and she imagined he felt it. Trying to recover some semblance of control, he attempted to use a different tactic.

"Very clever of you, but you still haven't denied that you may somehow be involved with a monster without your employer's knowledge." he said, as if that would scare her into saying something she shouldn't.

Syn snorted. "I haven't denied that I might be a flying purple unicorn masquerading as a human either, but you'd be a fool to believe it."

Again, he looked surprised. Completely befuddled even, and bordering on impressed. Poor kid, she thought. With how young he was, he probably didn't have much experience with interrogation. A good interrogator would have gotten frustrated with her by now. He studied her intently with a new light of appreciation gleaming in his blue eyes.

"You're really something, you know that?"

Inside her mind, the redhead felt a wave of intent awareness from Alucard at the same moment the door of the coffee shop opened to admit a new customer. Something had caught the vampire's interest enough to draw his attention away from the conversation she was having.

_Watch yourself, Syn. You aren't alone anymore._

Ah, so that's how it was. Syn noticed that DuPre's gaze briefly flicked over her shoulder and from the annoyed frown that pulled at his lips, she had a hunch she knew who had just come in. The footsteps approaching their little corner confirmed her suspicions. A tall man with a ruffled mane of tawny brown hair streaked with gray came into view and walked over to his side of the table. It was none other than Rufus Scrimgeour himself. He smoothed a hand down the front of his black, pinstriped suit and looked down at the man sitting across from her.

"Take a walk, Justin."

DuPre winced in frustration. "I can handle it, sir."

"Obviously not, or the woman wouldn't be making a fool out of you." Scrimgeour said firmly. "Now **go**."

The young man grit his teeth and huffed, then shoved his chair back to do as he was told. Syn watched him march off and turned back around as the elder wizard took a seat and set his briefcase on the floor beside him.

"Mr. Scrimgeour." she greeted with a curt nod.

"Miss Newsom." he said, returning the gesture with one of his own.

The woman studied him as he clasped his hands in front of him in a businesslike manner, then cleared her throat.

"I don't know whether to be amused or upset about you sending a little boy like that to waste my time." she told him. "Did you think I would fall for the schoolboy crush routine, or were you hoping I would take it easy on him since he obviously doesn't know what he's doing?"

"Justin's interrogation skills may be lacking, but he is very capable in other respects." the wizard replied calmly. "I am a man who prefers to see things for how they really are as opposed to how they seem." he made a sweeping gesture toward the door of the shop. "Mr. DuPre is a very open-minded, tolerant young man whose opinions are rarely colored by outside influences. He was the most appropriate candidate to give me an accurate profile of you. Being a muggleborn certainly didn't hurt."

Syn blinked in confusion. "What does being a muggleborn have to do with anything?"

Scrimgeour's head tilted slightly as he regarded her. "Given your antagonistic attitude towards us in the past, I am given to believe you hold a deep seated predjudice against wizards. It is typically easier for people such as yourself to interact with wizards they have more in common with." he arched a brow in interest at her pointed frown. "You don't like hearing that, do you? If my assumption about you is wrong, by all means, feel free to correct me."

The redhead's brows furrowed. "Being a wizard has nothing to do with it." she decided on saying. "I am predjudiced against ignorant idiots. It just so happens that your world is filled to the brim with them."

If the man was offended, he didn't show it. "I could say the same thing about the muggle world, Miss Newsom." he countered, then shrugged as if it meant little to him. "But I do hope, for your sake, you don't make the mistake of believing that I'm one of them."

While he appeared to only be making idle conversation, the last bit was said in a tone that held a note of warning and his eyes glinted with seriousness. This wasn't a man to be trifled with and Syn wasn't foolish enough to try. That didn't mean she was going to let him walk all over her though.

"Are you trying to scare me, Mr. Scrimgeour?" she asked.

"Not at all." he replied. "You strike me as a woman who is afraid of very little, so it would be a waste of my time and yours to try to frighten you into submission. But while you might be able to play mind games with one of my aurors, it will not work with me. I expect honesty and respect, and I'll give you the same in return." he paused to lean forward intently. "But no matter how good you think you are or what hidden talents you may possess, don't even **think** of lying to me. If you do, I'll know it."

That should go without saying. A person like him was probably a living, breathing lie detector. The redhead set her jaw firmly and did her best not to glare at him.

"I don't **lie**, Mr. Scrimgeour."

"Good." he said as he returned to his previous comfortable position. "Then we shan't have any problems. Now, in regards to the vampire..."

Oh Jesus Christ in Heaven, this again? Syn huffed in irritation and rolled her eyes.

"I don't intend to answer the same questions over and over again." she told him pissily. "I am not involved in any 'innapropriate' relationships - be they with humans, vampires, or anything else you people can think of to throw at me. If you don't believe me, **please**, go ask Sir Integra or any of my co-workers. They'll tell you the exact same thing."

For a moment the wizard looked upset that she'd interrupted him, but it lasted only a second. His gaze narrowed and became more focused.

"I don't think that will be necessary." he said. "I have the distinct impression that Sir Integra has been listening to everything that has been said since you arrived here, just as I have." he studied her silently, apparently trying to make her sweat. "You may not be lying, but you **are** hiding something. I am choosing to accept your response only because your 'personal relationships' as you call them aren't my most pressing concern." he gave her another of those warning looks of his and clasped his hands in front of him again. "There are a number of details about the incident that took place in that establishment which do not make sense. I would like you to clarify them for me. Namely, the fates of the children you discovered."

At the rate she was going, the redhead wasn't going to have any teeth left after grinding them so much.

"I have already made an official statement to Sir Integra and a written transcript was included in the report she sent when she contacted the Ministry." she said in a short tone. "That has everything you need to..."

"I don't give a **damn** about the 'official' statement." Scrimgerour interrupted, his voice deadly. He looked so upset with her he wanted to slam a fist into the table but was holding himself back. "I've read through that report several times and I'm aware of what it says. I want to hear about what happened from **you**."

Syn went very still and stared at him. The situation suddenly felt more dangerous and urgent in a way. Her action wasn't provoked by nervousness or anger, but in that moment she genuinely didn't know if this little game they were playing should be allowed to continue or for how long. Knowing that Alucard would hear her, she turned her thoughts inward.

_I need orders._

In a few second's time, her request was relayed to Integra and when the vampire returned her decision, it was almost like the knight was speaking through him rather than him speaking for himself.

_Cooperate. _he told her._ Follow the trail and see where it leads._

The redhead inclined her head, which was more for her benefit than anyone else's, then took a deep breath and did as she was instructed. She gave Scrimgeour a full recounting of her actions that night, from the moment she arrived at the club up to the team's return to the manor. A few key details - such as Alucard's involvement and Ylenia's survival - had to be left out, of course, but the basic facts remained true to what occured. The full weight of responsibility would rest firmly on her shoulders, but she was willing to endure that if they could get this mess sorted out. The elder wizard listened to every word in rapt attention. When she was finished, he leaned back in silent consideration.

"So according to you, the children were murdered by monsters and there was nothing you could have done to save them?" he questioned in a serious manner. "That there is no possibility whatsoever that you stood back and allowed them to die because of who they were or because they may have no longer been human?"

Oh, that was** it**. An interrogation she could deal with, but this continued assault on her character after laying the facts bare for him to see was going too damn far. Syn planted her hands flat on the table and lowered her voice to a level of intensity that would make anyone with an ounce of sense quake in terror.

"I did **not** kill those children." she hissed, seething in fury. "And I didn't stand back and allow them to die either. I didn't know they were magical beforehand but even if I had, it wouldn't have made a difference. You've got some nerve accusing me of murder when I actually **did** my job."

Ooohh... he didn't like hearing her say that one bit. The wizard's eyes narrowed.

"I don't appreciate the implication that I was negligent in my duties, Miss Newsom." he said in a short tone.

The woman sniffed. "I don't appreciate being treated like a criminal when I haven't done anything wrong either, but that's not stopping you, is it?"

Scrimgeour's jaw clenched in irritation. "If I wanted to formally accuse you of a crime, I would have you taken into custody and brought before a full criminal tribunal." he paused to lower his voice a hair. "And I may be tempted to do just that if you continue being diffucult."

Was that supposed to be intimidating or something? Syn crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. "I would **love** to see you try."

For a few moments, they did nothing but stare at each other. What the wizard was suggesting would require an army - and she sincerely doubted they'd be able to enter the grounds of Hellsing manor even if he tried to put one together. That kind of clash would ignite an all out war between them, which was something neither side could afford if they could help it. Syn had just called his bluff and he knew it. She wondered if Scrimgeour was trying to come up with another kind of threat to frighten her, but when he cleared his throat to speak again, he simply returned to the business at hand.

"How did you know they were werewolves?"

The woman blinked, not expecting the question after the shift in atmosphere. "Excuse me?"

"How did you know the men you saw with the wizard that night were werewolves?" Scrimgeour repeated. "This incident occured three days before the full moon, meaning they would have been in human form. It is virtually impossible to distinguish a werewolf from an ordinary human when they aren't transformed, so how were you able to determine what they were?"

Syn bristled internally, interpreting the question as an insult to her intelligence. "When you've done this job as long as I have, you learn how to tell." she said simply.

The elder wizard wasn't impressed. "You're asking me to take you at your word?"

"Why?" she countered. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Scrimgeour made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "I'm willing to accept the **possibility** that werewolves were involved, but the circumstances and location make it difficult for me to believe they weren't something else. I need to be convinced, Miss Newsom, and I'm afraid that you saying they were werewolves isn't good enough."

The redhead's face twisted into a scowl as she thought about how to handle this. Of course her word wouldn't be good enough. She was lucky that he had accepted her statements thus far (or hadn't tried to blow too many holes in them, at any rate). To prove the presence of werewolves would essentially prove everything else. It was just coming up with proof he would accept - and that she could live with herself for giving - that was the hard part.

"They could smell me." she finally offered. "They picked up on my scent when they arrived and immediately figured out what it meant. And, if you read the report Sir Integra sent to you, you should have seen in the children's autopsy reports that their injuries were caused by an extreme amount of physical force. No human on this earth has the strength to tear through a body like that."

The wizard's expression remained passive. "No human perhaps, but vampires certainly do."

"If they had been vampires, the damage would have been **much** worse." Syn said with a frown.

"I'm aware of that." Scrimgeour said with a nod. "But it is also possible that the damage was inflicted by vampires who weren't using their full strength - as is known to happen in some cases. The injuries alone are far from definitive, and you **know** that." he leaned back to study her as her frown deepened. "I don't know what the purpose of this little game of yours is, but allow me to give you some incentive." the wizard leaned over to retrieve his brieface and placed it on the table. "I have in my possession some information that your employer would very much like to have. Information Hellsing could never obtain on its own." he tapped his finger against the case meaningfully. "Give me what I'm asking for and I'll hand it over to you."

Information? Syn wondered. The promise certainly pricked her interest, but she remained cautious. She glanced at the briefcase then looked back over at him.

"I'm not stupid, Scrimgeour." she told him. "I don't make bargains when I don't know what I'm bargaining for."

The corner of his lips twitched as if he'd been expecting her to ask. He gestured to the folded up newspaper still laying on the table between them.

"The name and location of the man responsible for this story." he told her. "Whom I believe we both suspect is the same wizard you saw that night."

The redhead froze as a dozen different things took place in her mind. Both Alucard and Integra - who was kept filled in on every detail - were keenly interested in obtaining this 'information' that was being dangled under her nose. Syn understood this was something Hellsing desperately needed, but her maternal side shrank back at the thought of the cost. Uncomfortable didn't come close to describing how she felt.

_Tell him, Syn. _The No Life King instructed, sensing her resistance.

The woman grit her teeth. _She's just a baby, Alucard._ she thought back harshly. _I don't want to drag her into this. Do you know what the wizarding world __**does**__ to people who have been bitten by werewolves? How they treat them?_

_We don't have a choice. _he countered. The vampire paused for a moment, then went on. _I'll kill anyone who tries to touch her._

From the calm intensity in his voice, Syn knew he was serious. Hearing that declaration made her feel a bit better, but only slightly. She closed her eyes and shook her head to clear it, taking a deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to do.

"There was a survivor."

When her eyes slid open, she found Scrimgeour staring at her with a deep scowl on his face. Caught somewhere between surprise and anger at the revelation.

"**What**?" he demanded. "The report sent to the Ministry said **nothing** about..."

"That report was intended to provide information about what happened at the club and details about the casualties." she interrupted before he could finish. "The girl who survived is my **daughter** and since our family is exiled from your world, there was no reason to tell you about her."

The wizard's mouth snapped shut and he blinked at her in shock. "You have a daughter?"

_I do now_, she thought to herself. Rather than responding with words, the redhead only gave him a curt nod.

Scrimgeour quickly recovered from his bout of surprise and fixed her with that pointed, searching glare of his. "And how, Miss Newsom, did your child manage to survive when the others did not?"

She didn't appreciate the implication hidden behind the question but considering the circumstances, she supposed it was a fair thing to ask. She took a moment to figure out the best way to explain.

"They saved her for last." she told him. "And they... took more time with her than the others."

Suddenly, the atmosphere between them shifted again. The wizard before her no longer appeared angry, but somber and thoughtful instead. Perhaps he could see that her outrage at the situation was genuine and interpreted it to be the reason for her so called 'difficult' attitude. Whatever the reason was, the man calmed considerably and changed his approach. The directness and businesslike manner remained, but he seemed to choose his words more carefully.

"How old is your daughter, Miss Newsom?" he asked.

"Six."

His frown deepened. "Is she well?"

Of all the stupid... "She was kept in a cage for months while they did God knows what and was nearly eaten alive by a goddamn monster!" Syn spat at him. "How well do you think she is?"

Scrimgeour held up a hand in a calming gesture, but a new light of interest arose in his eyes. He leaned forward in expectation. "You're saying she was bitten?"

The redhead grit her teeth. "**Yes**."

The wizard watched her for a moment, then sat back pensively, rubbing a hand against his chin.

"Miss Newsom, I realize this situation is a difficult one and it's personal to you." he began. "I believe you're telling me the truth - but my beliefs aren't enough to warrant action on the part of the Ministry without any proof to back them up. If you would consent to your daughter being examined..."

Syn stopped him right there. "Absolutely **not**." she said firmly. "Have you not heard a word I've said? She was held prisoner and probably tortured numerous times by a **wizard**. She's in a fragile state right now and I won't risk her being traumatized even more by you people swooping in and doing things that will scare the hell out of her."

"I'll grant that you have legitimate concerns, but I'm not finished." Scrimgeour told her calmly. "There is a test newly developed by the Department of Mysteries which accurately detects the presence of antibodies to Lycanthropy. If your daughter were to test positive for them, it would be incontrovertible evidence that your story is true and I will approve a full disclosure of any resources and information the Ministry possesses that may be useful to you in relation to this case."

Holy hell, that sounded like a lot more than just the name and wherabouts of the wizard in the article. The Ministry would have the names of the magical children who were missing and if their blood-status was included in the missing person's reports, it would help them narrow down who they were looking for and where they might be. The woman sucked in a nervous breath.

"What does this... **test** involve?"

"The only thing it requires is a small vial of blood." he replied. "I understand that muggles draw blood for medical reasons all the time, so I imagine you have the means to obtain an adequate sample." he paused to look at her seriously. "Though I would require that an official from the Ministry be present so that we can be assured of who the blood came from. Aside from that, there would be no need for any other interaction between them. Your daughter wouldn't even have to know they were there."

Of course he'd require something rediculous like that. But then, she supposed she should be thankful he wasn't demanding something more invasive.

"And who would this 'official' be?" the redhead questioned. "You?"

Scrimgeour retrieved a pocket watch from the front of his vest to check the time. "I will have to put in a request for the testing materials and, unfortunately, I have other business to attend to today. But I don't believe Kingsley would take issue with leaving the Prime Minister's office for an hour or two."

Syn arched a brow. "Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"Yes." he confirmed. "Unless you'd prefer the job go to Mr. DuPre?"

The redhead wrinkled her nose. She'd **prefer** that a wizard not be involved in at all but if she had to choose, Shacklebolt was a much better prospect than DuPre. At least she knew he wouldn't try to flirt with her the entire time.

"No, Shacklebolt is fine." she told him. The woman took a second to gather her thoughts then cleared her throat. "I'm only allowing this to happen because you're twisting my arm, but I want to make something very clear right now. My daughter remains annonymous. No identifying information about her will be printed or shared with anyone else at the Ministry - and her name will **not** be put on that God forsaken registry I've heard you people have for werewolves."

Scrimgeour sat back thoughtfully. She couldn't tell what was going through his mind but when he spoke again, she was surprised by his response.

"Done." he said without hesistation. "So we have an understanding?"

Syn blinked at him. He wasn't even going to try to argue about her terms? That was... unexpected. "Wait a minute." she said, holding up her hands. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." the wizard repeated. "Considering your situation, I don't believe your demands are unreasonable." he gave her a small smile that was more meaningful than friendly. "I have the ability to make a number of things happen, Miss Newsom. I'm no miracle worker, but if you give me what I want, I am more than willing to return the favor. Now," he extended his hand out toward her. "Do we have a deal?"

She stared at his hand for a long time. While the conversation itself seemed to have taken a turn for the better, she was still anxious about trusting him. She was going to have to get over it if they wanted to get anywhere, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She coughed and leaned back a bit.

"What about the information you promised us in return?" she questioned.

"I will send it along with Kingsley." he replied. "If the test he performs shows a positive result, he'll hand it over then."

So everything would hinge on the results of that stupid blood test. How terrible was that? Being put in a position where you had to hope that a child being bitten meant that they were infected instead of praying that they weren't. And yet, Syn already instinctively knew what the result would be. That was the only reason she found the peace of mind to reach out her hand to shake on it.

"Deal."

* * *

><p>"This had <strong>better<strong> be worth it, Shacklebolt." Integra warned in an icy tone. "I don't appreciate being manipulated into this position."

To say the knight was livid would be an understatement. The entire situation was downright insulting and she took it personally. Not only was Syn forced to use the girl she'd taken in as a bargaining chip to get information that **should** have been shared freely, but Integra also had to make arrangements for a wizard to come into her home. She didn't think Shacklebolt would cause any trouble, but there was still a security risk involved. Her trust would only go so far. After discussing the matter over the phone, Kingsley arrived at the manor about half an hour after Syn returned from her encounter at the coffee shop. Jackson met him at the door and escorted him up to the knight's office. She would take over from there.

The man standing before her frowned. "I did tell you that I don't always approve of the Ministry's methods." he told her. "But I assure you this will be worth it, sir."

The woman's good eye narrowed. "We'll see about that." she wordlessly pushed herself up from her seat behind her desk and strode toward the door. "Everything is prepared down in the hospital wing. Follow me."

This was something she could have assigned to someone else, but she wanted to keep her eye on the man to ensure he didn't go sticking his nose into any areas he had no business being. Shacklebolt inclined his head and fell into step beside her, following her lead. They made their way through the house and down to the medical wing. Ylenia's room had a window which one could look through from the hallway, so there had been no need to move her. The wizard would be able to observe everything from outside. The door was ajar when they arrived and they both could see the redhead sitting on the side of the girl's bed, doing her best to calmly explain that the nurses needed to draw blood for a test and that everything would be fine. Ylenia herself was wide eyed with anxiousness. With all the tubes and IV's she had already, it was understandable that she didn't want to be poked and prodded by needles again. Integra stepped toward the door and knocked gently before sticking her head inside.

"Syn." she said.

Once she had the woman's attention, she beckoned to her with a finger. Syn looked up, nodded in understanding, then kissed the girl on the forehead and told her she'd come right back. She came out into the hallway with them and pulled the door shut behind her.

"Mr. Shacklebolt." she greeted, then held out her hand.

Kingsley took it somberly. "Miss Newsom, I'm truly sorry about all of this." he said, sounding sincere. He glanced toward the window to look into Ylenia's room. "How is she?"

"As well as can be expected." the redhead replied in a short tone. She looked through the window herself and sighed deeply, running a hand back through her hair. "She's afraid of needles." she explained. "Scrimgeour said a small vial but we have several different sizes. One of the nurses is bringing a few so you can pick which one we use. I only intend to do this once."

"I understand." the man replied with a nod. He inclined his head toward the room. "She's a beautiful girl."

Syn studied him cautiously. Once she came to the conclusion that he didn't mean anything by the compliment, she allowed herself to relax a bit. "Thank you."

One of the nurses arrived just then with her hands full of different sized vials. Shacklebolt picked out one which he felt was the best size and she and the redhead excused themselves to go back into the hospital room. The moment Ylenia saw the nurse and the supplies she had brought with her, the girl's eyes nearly bulged out of out of her skull. While it couldn't be said she went into a full panic, she came pretty close to it. Syn sat down next to her and did everything she could to try to calm her down - even going so far as letting the nurse draw a small amout of blood from her own arm to prove that it wouldn't hurt much.

"See?" they heard her say, though her voice was a bit muffled from the glass between them. "It's not bad at all. If you don't watch, you wont even feel it."

The girl looked like she didn't believe that for a second, but the redhead somehow convinced her to give it a try. The moment her head was turned in the opposite direction, the nurse swooped in to take advantage of the opening and quickly inserted the needle into a vein. Thank God the woman was good enough at sticking people to do it painlessly. Of course, Syn then had the task of keeping Ylenia distracted so that she didn't grow tense or freak out while the vial was being filled, but she did an admirable job. All in all, the task took less than a minute to complete and when the girl realized she that hadn't felt a thing, she was absolutely amazed. The redhead smiled and arranged for a treat to be brought as a reward for doing a good job, then took the vial of blood from the nurse to bring it outside.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked as she extended it out to the wizard.

"From what I understand, only a few seconds." Shacklebolt replied. He retrieved a stoppered bottle filled with a milky white fluid from one of the pockets of his robes. "You're free to watch, if you like."

Both women nodded and he uncorked the bottle to pour the blood into it. There was scarely any time for the blood to stain the potion red before it shifted to a bright, almost neon shade of green.

Integra arched a brow. "I take it that's a positive result?"

The man's lips pressed into a firm frown. "It is." he affirmed, then turned to Syn with a solemn expression. "I'm sorry."

The gunsmith shook her head. "I didn't need a test to tell me she was infected. I wouldn't have agreed to this otherwise." she told him. She glanced briefly at the knight and squared her shoulders. "Scrimgeour said he would send the information he promised with you."

Kingsley nodded and took a step back. "Indeed he did." he said as he reached into his robes again, this time to pull out a scroll of parchment. "Rufus is working on getting a list of the magical children who have gone missing so you can check the names against any muggle records you have. Those files should be sent to you within a day or two. But this," he held up the scroll. "We can give you now."

Integra took it from him and unrolled it to read. It looked like a personel file for... Her good eye narrowed.

"This man works for the Daily Prophet?"

Shacklebolt inclined his head. "He not only works for them, but is their head editor. He probably wrote the entire article himself." he gave Syn a sideways look and gestured to the picture included in the file. "Do you recognize him?"

The redhead leaned over to get a look for herself. "That's him." she confirmed. "That's the bastard who was ordering the werewolves around." she studied the name on the scroll. "Bartholomew..." she noticably paused. "**Goeth**?"

"Yes." Kingsley replied with a frown. "And I'm not surprised to hear he's been getting up to no good." he pointed at the parchment in Integra's hands. "You won't find anything about this written in there but after the Wizarding War, he was brought to trial for being a Death Eater. He escaped conviction by claiming that He Who Must Not Be Named used the imperius curse on him."

The lady knight gave a start. "And you **still** allowed him to work at a newspaper knowing he would have influence over what was reported?"

"If I had my way, I wouldn't let anyone with an ounce of suspicion hanging over their heads have a job like that, but unfortunately, I don't have the power to make those decisons." he told them. "It is impossible to prove when the imperius curse has been used on someone unless the person is actively under the spell. At the time, the Ministry chose to err on the side of caution. If someone was found innocent, their public records were expunged to prevent the stigma from affecting them any further. This enabled **many** Death Eaters to save their skins and return to their former jobs. Some we can't be sure about, but there are several who we strongly suspect of lying. And considering that some of those people work at the Ministry of Magic, we try to keep a close eye on them to make sure they don't... fall back into their bad habits."

Now that was an interesting piece of information... Integra cleared her throat. "And if you knew about this man's involvement at the club, why haven't you taken care of the problem yourselves?"

Shacklebolt made a sweeping hand gesture. "Mr. Goeth may not work for the Ministry itself, but he has many friends who do." he said. "Some of them work in very high ranking positions. If we tried to take action against him, we would be blocked at every turn and there would be huge public debacle. The most we've been able to do legally is force him to take a temporary leave of absence from the Prophet with the understanding that he would announce his retirement shortly thereafter. We've been tracking his movements ever since. According to our intelligence, he left the country immediately after taking his leave to 'stay with relatives' in Germany. He's currently in a small town about thirty miles north of Munich." he paused to cough meaningfully. "I believe Rufus has already alerted the German Minsitry of Magic to the situation, so if you chose to track Mr. Goeth down for... 'questioning', they'll stay out of your way. As long as there isn't too much of a spectacle, of course."

Integra and Syn just looked at each other. "Of course." the lady knight proclaimed, then held out her hand to signal that their meeting was over. "I thank you for your help, Mr. Shacklebolt, and I'll be looking forward to recieving those missing persons reports."

The wizard nodded and shook her hand. "It was no trouble at all, Sir Integra."

The lady knight called for Jackson to escort him out and once the man was gone, she fixed her gaze on the documents she'd been given. Next to her, Syn cleared her throat.

"I'm not sure how common that name is, but wasn't there a high ranking Nazi officer named 'Goeth'?" she asked.

"Indeed there was." Integra replied. "And he was in charge of one of their precious camps, if I recall correctly." her frown deepened. "Alucard!"

The vampire immediately materialized through a wall to their left, as if he'd been waiting for her summons. His crimson eyes light up in expectation.

"Yes, master?"

The knight thrust the scroll out toward him. "You and Seras are going to Germany." she informed him. "Find him and make him tell you everything he knows." she paused to give him a look. "And **try** not to make too much of a scene."

The No Life King's lips pulled back into a terrifying smirk of approval. "And after we've questioned him?"

"Kill him." she said icily. "As slowly as possible."

"Yes, my master."

* * *

><p>A.N. I am very, truly, extremely sorry for taking so long to post this. I was... abducted by aliens! Yeah, I was abducted by those creepy four foot tall, gray, balloon headed aliens with the ginormous eyes and they took me to their home planet and did all these weird, scary experiments... and the whole time I was like 'dudes! You have to take me back home 'cause I have a story to finish, yo!'<p>

Okay, fine. That's a lie. I actually had a character - who has only been mentioned once so far - jump inside my head and take over, forcing me to write an insanely long chapter from his point of view - which isn't going to appear for a while. His writing style is completely different from mine, and it took a while to bounce back from it and get him to shut the hell up.

And maybe the boyfriend has been distracting me a lot lately. He likes to do that. But the thing about the character taking over my brain is totally true.

... I'm going to shut up now.


	63. Sweet Things

I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

_Ministry Issues Formal Statement on Purgatorium Incident_

_After much speculation and public debate, the Ministry of Magic has finally released a formal statememt regarding the terrible events which took place in London._

_"When an unusual situation like this arises, emotions run high and it is very easy to jump to conclusions." A Ministry spokesperson told the Prophet. "We have approached the matter with the intense scrutiny it deserves to separate fact from fiction. While we cannot say that we approve of the extreme measures the Hellsing Organization is known for using, our investigation shows that their relation of events was accurate and they were in no way responsible for what happened to the young victims."_

_Our readers will remember that in our initial reporting of the incident, an anonymous witness expressed concern that Miss Syn Newsom - a Hellsing agent - either did not take appropriate action action to save the children's lives, or may have been responsible for them being there in the first place._

_"This is entirely false." the Ministry offical said. "When we first learned about the tragedy, the Ministry took the allegations against Miss Newsom very seriously. She was privately interviewed by two aurors - one of whom was Rufus Scrimgeour himself, who is well known for his talent at interrogating difficult subjects. They both utilized powerful lie detection charms which she was not made aware of to prevent any tampering or blocking of the spells. Though she was clearly upset at being questioned, Miss Newsom was very precise and clear with her responses and neither Mr. Scrimgeour nor the other auror who interviewed her could detect any signs of deception."_

_Hellsing's claims are further backed up by the revelation of a key witness - a young girl who was one of those held captive and survived the raid. Mr. Scrimgeour recently released a report stating that this child provided irrefutable evidence that werewolves were indeed involved. The identities of the girl and her family are being withheld for their safety and wellbeing._

_When questioned as to whether this was an isolated incident or if it may be tied to the escape of Sirius Black, the Ministry spokesperson responded:_

_"At this point in time, we can't say. Our investigation is ongoing and we have yet to determine what the purpose of the kidnappings was or who the mastermind behind them may be. However, many of the children were held captive for several months and in a few cases, more than a year. Knowing that, we strongly suspect there may be others out there. We are working closely with the Hellsing Organization and the muggle authorities to figure out where they are so that they may be safely returned to their families. We urge all parents to keep a close watch on their children and if anyone notices any suspicious activity - especially involving known werewolves - do not hesitate to report it. By working together, we hope to prevent another tragedy like the one in London from occuring again."_

* * *

><p>Mihnea wrinkled his nose and tossed the newspaper onto his bedside table in disgust. Printing crap like that was a foolproof way to start a panic. The Ministry of Magic needed to mind its own business and stay the hell out of it. The situation was mucked up enough without them making it worse.<p>

His father's expedition to Germany had pretty much been a waste of time. From what he gathered from his mother's letters, Alucard and Seras had found Goeth, but couldn't get any useful information out of him due to his memories being erased. Either someone obliviated him before they arrived, or the man had done it to himself. Whichever it was, one thing was blatantly clear: someone had been tipped off that Hellsing was coming.

Given that the only ones who knew their plans were the British and German Ministries of Magic, that meant they had a big problem. If someone in the local Ministry was responsible, Hellsing was going to have trouble getting their hands on them without an enormous backlash from the magical world. If it was the German Ministry, then the situation was suddenly an international one.

Mihnea figured it was probably the damn Germans. The whole lot of them were nothing but trouble.

The boy's thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door. He went very still and pushed himself upright from where he had been comfortably sprawled across his bed. No one ever came to his room to bother him. He couldn't imagine what was going on unless... Bassarab furrowed his brow and sniffed at the air.

_Damn it. _he swore internally. It was a girl. This was getting rediculous. He was beginning to entertain the idea of giving them exactly what they were asking for in the most violent, unpleasant way possible. Maybe then the mindless twits would learn that he wasn't the sort of guy they wanted to mess around with. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that doing that would probably leave the girl in question permanently damaged and he would be outed.

A second, more insistent knock rang out and Mihnea shoved a hand back through his hair. Part of him wanted to ignore it. Another part realized that it wouldn't stop unless he faced the issue head on. With a heavy sigh, he slid himself off the bed and trudged over to the door to pull it open.

It was Verity Selwyn, a Slytherin girl in his year. She was the sort that was easy to overlook because of how quiet and unobtrusive she was. The boy hadn't even known she existed until their first class in Arithmancy third year where she showed herself to be a whiz with numbers. Her hand was raised as if about to knock a third time, but the moment she saw him she lowered it and took a small step back.

Mihnea narrowed his eyes. "What do you wa..."

"I'm just delivering a message." Selwyn interrupted swiftly, throwing up both hands like she already knew how he'd react to the intrusion. "Professor Snape sent me. He wants to see you in his office."

The boy blinked at her. Of all the things he expected, that was pretty low on the list. Mihnea supposed he should be thankful he wasn't immediately tackled to the floor. He cleared his throat.

"Did he say why?" he questioned.

The girl shook her head and tucked a lock of honey blonde hair behind one ear. "No, but he's been giving out schedules for next year, so it may have something to do with that."

Oh sure, the Potions Master might use that as an excuse, but Mihnea knew better than to think that was the only reason he wanted to see him. _Great._ he mused. _Just what I need right now_. He shook his head and turned his attention back to his visitor.

"Is that it, Selwyn?"

Her nose turned up in dislike. "Yes." she confirmed, then hesitated. "But please don't call me that."

Mihnea arched a brow at the odd request. "Why not? It's your name, isn't it?"

"My father's name." Selwyn corrected. "He's a terrible person and I want to have as little to do with him as I can. I already have to live with being sorted into the same house he was in and hearing the teachers call me that day in and day out. I'd rather not have to deal with it outside of class if you don't mind." she paused to glance sideways, making sure the hallway was empty before going on. "Not all of us think that being related to people who have done horrible things is something to be proud of." she whispered. "After what you did when Black broke into the castle last time, I thought... you might understand that."

The boy was stunned. Slytherin house was filled to the brim with people indocrinated to believe their pureblood status made them better than everyone else and that the terrible acts comitted by others of their stock were to be celebrated. To encounter one who didn't think that way was surprising. He figured there had to be a handful of fellow housemates who weren't 'bad', but none that would speak their views openly. He couldn't really begrudge them for it either. It would be a stupid thing to do unless you were prepared for the backlash of the entire house turning against you. Suddenly, he felt a twinge of understanding and perhaps even sympathy. While he hadn't experienced her exact situation, the notion of feeling strongly about something and not being able to say why... he knew all about that. Mihnea inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"Fine." he told her. "Verity."

The girl before him blew out a long, slow sigh of relief. "Thank you." she breathed, then her expression quickly shifted to one of nervousness. "You wont... tell anyone what I said, will you?"

"Of course not." he replied with a shake of his head.

Verity brightened and gave him another relieved 'thank you', then apologized for bothering him before going off on her way. Mihnea watched her go, then stepped out into the hallway himself and pulled the door shut behind him. If Snape wanted to see him, it was best not to keep him waiting for too long.

* * *

><p>When he reached the Potions Master's office and knocked on the door, it didn't take long for his presence to be acknowledged.<p>

"Enter."

Mihnea deftly opened the door and slid inside the office before pushing it closed behind him.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Snape was at his desk scribbling on various pieces of parchment. Grading homework assignments most likely. Without looking up from his work, he retrieved a document from a stack of papers off to the side and slid it across the desk.

"Your schedule for next year." he said as he went back to his writing. "Contengent upon your OWL scores, of course. Look it over to make sure no changes need to be made."

The boy stepped forward to retrieve the parchment. Looking down, he saw all of his requested classes were listed. The man hadn't tried to shove him off into any 'practical' classes he thought were more suitable. Even more surprising was the fact that he hadn't attempted to bring it up again. But maybe that's what the whole 'making sure no changes needed to be made' thing was about. He was giving Mihnea one last chance to change his mind before making the schedule official. The boy glanced up and cleared his throat.

"Everything looks right, sir."

The Potions Master made a gruff sound in the back of his throat. "Keep that for your records and I'll send a copy to the Headmaser for final approval."

Was... that it? Mihnea blinked at his Head of House in befuddlement. The man still had yet to look up from his desk and didn't appear to have anything more to say. Perhaps today was his lucky day after all. However, when he turned to leave, this was proven to not be the case.

"You have been neglecting your stocking duties in my storeroom, Mr. Bassarab." Snape called out from behind him.

Mihnea halted mid-step and slumped his shoulders. He knew it was too good to be true. He hadn't been doing his usual job in the Potions storeroom partially because be hadn't been sure if Snape would let him continue after their last argument. That, and he'd been trying to avoid another conflict by staying away from the classroom as much as possible. He'd be damned if he'd admit that to him though. With a heay sigh, he turned back around to find Snape sitting upright, studying him intently with his hands clasped in front of him.

"I've had a lot on my mind lately." the boy told him.

The Potions Master's expression remained bland. "I see." he drawled. "It is unusual for a student to be allowed to return home outside of holiday breaks. Would you care to share why you and Miss Stryker were called away so suddenly two weeks ago?"

Having half-expected the question to come up, he didn't hesitate in offering a response.

"My little sister was in the hospital." he said.

The man arched a brow. "I wasn't aware you had a sister."

"I have two sisters actually." Mihnea replied. "And you never asked, sir."

Snape hummed pensievely. "What happened?"

"She had an accident."

"Ah ha." The Potions Master said with a sneer. "An **accident**." he leaned back in his chair and shot a pointed look at Mihnea's left arm. "It's beginning to seem that your family is particularly prone to having these 'accidents'."

So it was back to this. Gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists, Mihnea spat out something he probably shouldn't have said, but was too angry to hold back.

"Have you read today's newspaper, Professor?" he asked hotly.

The man sitting before him looked confused only for a moment. "What does that ha..."

His words trailed off as realization dawned across his features. Mihnea had just revealed something incredibly imporant to him, and neither of them had really expected it. The boy took his reaction as a sign that maybe, just maybe, he'd take him more seriously now.

"See?" he asked. "You already know what happened. My sister had a very bad **accident**. It happened, she's alive, and that's all I have to say about it."

Snape studied him for a long time, first stunned, then thoughtful. "I'm sorry to hear that." he said after a long silence. His eyes narrowed keenly. "I understand you have been talking to Professor Lupin on a regular basis."

The subject change was so swift that it took Mihnea a minute to recognize what he was saying.

"I have." he admitted. _No point in lying about it_.

"What about?" the man prodded.

Mihnea immediately bristled. "Is there a secret rule somewhere about not talking to other teachers without your Head of House's permission?"

Snape scowled and pointed a figure in his direction. "Watch the attitude, Mr. Bassarab." he warned. "You aren't the sort of student who would have to speak to a teacher about grades, so I can only assume these talks you're having are of a personal nature. It would be in your best interests to realize that there are things about Professor Lupin you don't know and he might not be the type of person you should trust."

"Why is that, Professor?" he challenged. "Is it because he's a Gryffindor or a werewolf?"

The man didn't look the least bit surprised that Mihnea named Lupin's condition out loud. He was smart enough to know he had figured out a long time ago. Hell, he had dropped enough hints that it would be shocking if Snape didn't think he already knew. The Potions Master's only response to his outburst was to take a deep breath.

"I would think after what you just revealed about your sister, the answer to that would be obvious." he said.

"Professor Lupin isn't the one who nearly killed her." Mihnea retorted. "You act like Lupin is a bloodthirsty monster who will hurt anyone he gets his hands on just because of what he is. I don't believe that. Those bastards who kidnapped my sister and tortured her for months on end while in **human** form... those are the monsters. Professor Lupin is a man who has issues he can't help and has no control over. He isn't a monster."

Snape sniffed derisively. "And I suppose you know all about monsters, given your vast wealth of personal experience with them."

Mihnea could see what he was doing. Spitting a jab like that at him in an attempt to beat into his brain how wrong he was and that he didn't know what he was talking about. There was no way to express how much he wanted to shout back: _As a matter of fact, sir, I __**do**__ know all about monsters. I happen to be one, and I've killed more than my fair share of them._ But instead, he only grit his teeth and glared at him angrily.

"You can think whatever you want." he said. "But I disagree with you on this. And I will talk to whoever I damn well please, even if it pisses you off. Sir." he tacked on to the end as an afterthought.

His Head of House quirked a brow. "I'm not 'pissed off', Mr. Bassarab." he told him. "If I were angry with you, I assure you, you would know it. But if you choose to continue with your association even after being given a fair warning, then I will not stop you." he leaned back in his chair again. "Your temper is going to get you into trouble one day, but I appreciate your attempt to reign it in now." When Mihnea just blinked at him, he picked up his quill as if to return to his grading. "I expect you to report for work immediately after class tomorrow. If you don't come, I will take that as an indication that you no longer wish to continue and I will dismiss you from your responsibilities."

Mihnea blinked again. Was he really doing this? He cleared his throat. "Should I expect a detention if I don't show up?"

Snape glanced up at him. "Only if you give me a reason, Mr. Bassarab." he replied. With that note of finality, he made a shooing motion toward the door. "You may go."

To say the boy was bewildered when he left was an understatement. He felt an important shift had just occured between him and his professor, but he wasn't entirely sure if it was a good or bad one. The best thing for him to do was to just ride it out and see where it led. He would return to his usual stocking duties the next day and go back to his normal schedule. To allow Professor Snape to dismiss him from his job would deny him access to valuable information he might need later. But the idea of him doing things the Potions Master didn't approve of and him not trying to stop him or argue with him about it any more... he wasn't sure what that meant.

When Mihnea got back to his room in the dormitory, Pixie was sitting directly under the doorknob, giving him the feline equivalent of a glare. She was probably pissed that he'd locked the door where she couldn't get in. Knowing that he'd sent her to stay with Luna until it was time for the thestral to give birth, the boy figured he knew why she was there. He unlocked and opened the door, then followed the cat inside.

"You have something for me, girl?" he asked.

Pixie leapt up onto his bed and meowed, pawing at a slip of paper tucked into the back of her collar. Mihnea smirked at her attempts to remove it and scratched the top of her head before pulling it free himself. He unfolded the paper and saw only two words.

_It's time._

Without wasting any time, he grabbed a fresh slip of parchment to write a note to Constance, then held it out to his cat. Pixie glanced at it and made an unhappy sound, as if complaining that she was a cat and not an owl.

"Come on, Pixie." Mihnea told her. "This is the last one. After this, you can come back down here lay around like the queen of the castle all you want. I'll even let you go out and kill something if you like."

Pixie's rounded ears picked up at the sound of that and she meowed hopefully.

Mihnea chuckled and extended the paper again. "Take this to Connie, then you can go. But if you bring something dead back here, don't get blood everywhere."

His cat purred happily, rubbed her head against his arm in approval, then snatched the note out of his hand with her teeth. After she darted out of his room to deliver the message, Mihnea set about gathering up a few things. It was already getting dark outside, so he'd have to pick up the girls soon.

* * *

><p>"Wow." Constance said after hearing Mihnea relate his encounter with Snape. "So... what does this mean, exactly?"<p>

"I have no idea." he replied. "The whole thing was weird as hell."

"Well, I think it might be a good thing." Luna commented helpfully. "Maybe Professor Snape is just giving you your space. If he's letting you make your own decisions without getting involved, it shows that he respects you, doesn't it?"

Connie watched as her cousin turned to regard the blonde girl walking next to him. "Maybe so." he said. "But it's still odd."

Luna made a face at him. "You're always so suspicious, Mihnea. Look on the bright side. This is one less thing for you to worry about! Be happy!"

Constance couldn't help but giggle at the younger girl's enthusiasm at trying to get him to lighten up. It was cute. Mihnea seemed to think so too because he was fighting back a smile of his own. She shook her head at the two of them, then coughed.

"So anyway..." she said, looking at Luna. "Did you bring that thing I talked to you about?"

"Of course I did." the girl replied. She opened the bag slung over her shoulder and lifted up a parcel just enough for her to see it. "I did a few final experiments this afternoon to make sure it was working right. Mihnea and I haven't actually used the spell on anything before now, so I wanted to make sure it wouldn't do anything wonky." she paused a moment. "And I'm sorry for it being a bit late."

Connie waved at her. "It's not a problem! I'd rather wait longer and know it works than get something that will go haywire." she told her. "And honestly, with something like this, I really don't want to find out what happens if the spell doesn't do right."

Mihnea snorted. "As if something I made wouldn't work."

Luna glanced at him sideways. "I helped." she pointed out placidly. "And I've seen what can happen when new magic isn't tested for safety and I'd rather not go through it again."

The girl's tone was perfectly nonchalant, but the boy still winced. "I didn't mean it that way." he said apologetically.

"I know you didn't." she replied with a kind-hearted smile. "I was only pointing it out."

Constance didn't know what they were talking about or what she could add to the conversation, so she remained quiet. It didn't much matter anyway because they had nearly reached Hagrid's hut. The groundskeeper was outside, lit by flickering torches, trying to coerce a large creature near his pumpkin patch into eating. As they drew closer, they saw it was Buckbeak.

"Come now, you great beast." Hagrid said as he dangled what looked like a dead weasel in front of his face. "You need ter eat somm'at."

The hippogriff looked at the food with disinterest and lowered his head to rest it on his clawed feet. It was the very picture of depression. Luna frowned as Hagrid shook his head and sighed.

"Hagrid?" she questioned.

With a start, the groundskeeper turned to look in their direction.

"Oh! Didn't expect you ter come so fast." he said, then glanced past them toward the castle. "Yer sure you weren't followed? You lot will get in 'o lot 'o trouble if someone finds out yer out here."

Mihnea shook his head as the three of them approached. "No, I made sure. We're clear."

Constance focused her attention on the hippogriff who looked so downtrodden. "Is he not eating anymore?"

"Not as much as he should be." Hagrid replied. He looked over at Buckbeak with a sad expression of his own. "Wicked smart creatures, hippogriffs are. He knows he's not got much time left." It appeared that he was about to start crying at the thought, but the massive man quickly wiped at his eyes and changed the subject. "Best ter leave him alone fer now. We've got a baby thestral ter birth!"

Hagrid stepped inside his hut to grab a few things they would need and came back out with a mass of lanterns in his arms. One was passed out to each of them and after they were lit, he began explaining how their encounter would go.

"We're not going far into the forest, but it'd be best ter stay close. No wandering off. An' mind mind yerselves when we get there. This is Misty's first, so she'll be a bit skittish." he paused for a moment, as if considering something. "An' I'd stay away from her head an' rear until she's comfortable with all 'o us being there if I were you. She may be in labor, but she can still bite and kick."

_Good lord. _Constance thought. If the thestral was in pain, she'd be more likely to lash out at someone, and being bitten or kicked by such a creature was the last thing any of them wanted to happen.

The excursion into the forest was rather uneventful. After a short walk, Hagrid led them toward an open place amongst all the trees. A thick bed of fresh hay had been laid out and the dark shape of a thestral could be seen laying upon it. However, the moment they came within a few feet of her, the beast's head shot up nervously to sniff at the air. With an uncomfortable sounding knicker, she jumped to her feet and bolted off into the darkness. Skittish indeed.

"Whoa there Misty!" Hagrid called out. "They're here ter help." he held out a hand to push them backwards. "Back up an' give her some space. She's nervous."

The three of them stepped back a good foot or so whilst Hagrid slowly inched forward with his hand outstretched soothingly. They all watched in silence as a black, skeletal head poked around a tree trunk to regard him suspiciously.

"There now." Hagrid crooned softly. "Calm down. They're friends. You know them, don't you?" He glanced back at their little group. "Two 'o them anyway."

Very slowly, the thestral inched out from behind the tree she was using as a shield and came closer. Mihnea and Luna had played around in the forest enough for her to recognize them, but Constance was a new face. With Hagrid keeping a close eye on her every movement, Misty cautiously trotted toward the brown haired girl. She stopped less than a foot away and blew a huff of air through her nostrils at her. Connie was struck by how much she looked like an ordinary horse. Well... the head, neck, and other limbs were still skeletal, but the trunk of the body was very similar to how an ordinary horse's would be. Maybe that's how one could tell she was pregnant.

The groundskeeper had slowly inched his way over so that he was standing off to the side of them. He put a hand on the thestral's flank to calm her.

"Hold yer hand up Connie." he instructed.

While Constance wasn't really afraid of the beast, she definitely didn't want to push her luck after recieving his earlier warning to be careful. She looked sideways at him.

"She wont bite me, will she?" she asked.

Hagrid shook his head. "Not as long as you stay still. Let her come ter you. If she likes you, she'll let you rub her nose."

Instinctively glancing back toward Mihnea and Luna for confirmation, Connie took a deep breath and held up her hand without moving it forward. If those two could get along with half-wild thestrals, then so could she. But she swore if the damn thing bit her, she was going to be pissed at somebody. Misty gave a hard look at her hand, pranced in place for a bit, then inched closer to sniff at it. Finally, she seemed to decide that Constance was trustworthy and lowered her head toward her until her nose touched her fingertips. Once she saw she had the animal's acceptance, the girl moved her hand upward to gently rub the front of her face. The skin felt rather like warm suede and was surprisingly pleasant to the touch.

"Very good." Hagrid praised, then waved the others over. "Alright, you two come on, but careful not ter crowd her. We don't need her running off again."

Constance stepped back and gave the others their turn at greeting the animal. They had a much faster, easier time of it because of Misty's recognition of them. Once they all were sure that she had decided it was okay for them to be there, the three of them took up positions on the ground around the mass of hay. The only thing they could really do at that point was keep the thestral comfortable and calm until it was time. Luna wound up letting Misty rest her head in her lap and petting her nose. When she asked Hagrid how long it would be, he replied that there was really no way of telling. Thestrals, like horses, could somewhat control when they gave birth. Out in the wild, they had to in order to ensure they had their babies in a safe, quiet place. When the baby came would depend entirely on how safe the mother felt.

They spent nearly half an hour there, just sitting, talking, and saying soothing words, until they noticed Misty looking more tense than she had before. She would raise and lower her head and every muscle in her body - especially the hindquarters - trembled at the slightest touch.

"Is that..." Luna began, looking down the thestral's body. Her eyes widened and her voice became more excited. "I see a foot!"

Sure enough, there was a foot. Two very slimy hooved feet, to be exact. At that moment, Hagrid began handing out responsibilities to everyone. Since Luna was so excited about seeing the baby, she was put in charge of tending to the foal once it was born. Mihnea, being the strongest, would help pull the baby out. Constance took over holding the mother's head in her lap and keeping her calm. Mihnea and Luna had more interest in the whole 'birthing' thing than she did and, to be perfectly honest, she didn't want to be too involved in the messy side of it. So it was that she petted the side of Misty's face and said soft, soothing words while Luna held a blanket and Mihnea recieved his instructions.

"Just grab the feet an' pull out, then down toward her legs." Hagrid told him. "Don't force it though. Only pull when she pushes. An' keep a good grip 'cause they'll be slippery."

Mihnea nodded and took hold of the foal's legs to pull. Hagrid had to get involved to get the hindquarters and shoulders out safely, then out popped the head and they had a baby. It was shockingly simple and went by faster than Connie expected. Luna quickly jumped into action, rubbing as much of the slimly fluids off of it with the blanket as she could without touching it with her hands. They had been warned not to touch the baby bare handed until the mother accepted it. Once it was relatively cleaned off, the girl helped the foal crawl up toward Misty's head. The thestral lifted it's head from Constance's lap, sniffed at the foal, and after a few moments' inspection, began licking it. The foal made this tiny, adorable sound that brought a smile to Connie's lips. For something so tiny and... well, **ugly**, it was actually quite cute in a weird sort of way.

Seeing that Misty was far more interested in her new baby than being petted, the girl scooted out from under her head and crawled around to where the others were sitting. Luna was clutching the wet, bloody blanket, staring at the scene with wide eyes like she thought it was the most touching thing in the world, while Mihnea was wiping what was left of the goo off of his hands and shirt.

"I'm going to need a bath after this." he said, tossing the rag he was using to the side. He looked over at the two thestrals and grinned. "But that was kind of cool."

"It's so beautiful..." Luna sighed, then shook her head and glanced toward Hagrid. "What will it's name be?"

"Well, we'll have ter pick one, won't we?" the groundskeeper replied with a smile. "It looks like we've got ourselves a wee filly. What do you think?"

The blonde girl blinked at him like she thought the news was wonderful. "It's a girl?" she asked. "Hmm... her eyes are a very pretty pink. How about Coral?"

Knowing how the girl was, Constance had expected her to come up with a more unusual name than that. However, if she thought about it, it was a fitting name. The foal's eyes were a striking shade of pink that could be called coral...

"I like it." Connie said.

Both Hagrid and Mihnea agreed that they liked the name as well, so it stuck. There would be a new thestral in the herd named Coral. It was a little odd, considering what the animals looked like, but at least she'd be recognizable.

Constance thought the whole experience was a pretty amazing thing to witness. Not earth-shattering or soul-moving, of course, but still interesting. They had just helped bring a new life into the world. And seeing Misty and her baby bonding and getting to know one another was touching.

Since it was getting rather late and there wasn't much left for them to do, Hagrid said that they should probably pack up and head back to the castle. The longer they were out, the more likely it was that someone would notice they were gone - and with times being the way they were, it wasn't safe for them to be out anyway. They all made their way out of the forest and back to Hagrid's hut to return the lanterns, then began quietly sneaking back. Gryffindor tower was the closest to the entrance they used, so they went there first, then Mihnea and Luna left to go to the Ravenclaw dormitories. Once Constance entered the common room, she found that all of her housemates had already gone up to bed. She hadn't been keeping close track of the time, but she hadn't thought it was quite **that** late. Figuring she should probably go upstairs and get ready for bed herself, Connie sat the package she had gotten from Luna down on the nearest sofa and moved to take off her jacket. She had just gotten it off and was neatly folding it up when a pair of hands grabbed her from behind.

"Boo!"

Connie squealed and jumped, whirling around to see who her attacker was. It was none other than George, in pajamas and messed up hair, nearly doubled over in laughter at her reaction.

"You should have seen your face!" he declared between guffaws.

Constance grit her teeth and stomped her foot. "Damn it, George!" she exclaimed. She balled up her jacket and hit him in the face with it. "That wasn't funny! You scared me half to death!"

He just grinned. "I didn't think I'd be able to scare you after what you've been out doing..." he winced when she hit him again and skipped backwards. "Hey, watch it! That thing has buttons!"

"Serves you right for frightening people in the middle of the night." Connie huffed, though she did put her jacket down. "What are you doing up anyway?"

"I was waiting for you." he replied. "I've got to show you something. You, miss 'I can start fires without a wand', have been found out."

The girl froze where she stood and stared at him in horror. "Excuse me?"

George laughed at her and motioned for her to calm down. "No, not that way." he said. "It's not bad, I promise. Check this out."

Without another word, George produced a candle from the pocket of his robe and held it out in front of him. He focused his gaze on the wick and blew out a long, slow stream of air. The tip of the wick burst into flame immediately and Connie's eyes widened. In sorcery, fire was one of the most difficult elements to control because of how persnickity it could be. The fact that he had figured out how to produce it from nothing so soon after beginning to learn was amazing.

"Wow!" she said. "That's awesome George! How long have you been able to do that?"

George puffed up proudly. "A couple of days." he replied, rubbing his knuckles against his shoulder. "It was just today that I figured out how to make it appear where I wanted it to though. I can't do the snapping thing like you yet, but I **can** do this."

He then lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers at the candle. The fire began rapidly shifting through various colors of the rainbow - first blue, then purple, then green, before returning to it's normal orange.

"How awesome is that!?" he asked. "Fred hates me now."

Constance couldn't hold back a laugh at how enthusiastic he was about it. She could imagine that Fred was sickened by the thought of his brother being able to do something he couldn't. George had a great way to one-up him now. She clapped her hands together and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss.

"That's wonderful!" she proclaimed when she leaned back. "That's not an easy thing to do. I'm proud of you."

George looked like she had just said the most beautiful thing in the world, but didn't want to let on how much he liked hearing it. He blew out the candle and gave it a jaunty toss in the air before slipping it back into his pocket.

"So what's up with the box?" he asked.

Connie blinked at him for a moment, then realized what he was talking about. "Oh!" she exclaimed, moving to pick it up. "It's for you. I was going to wait and give it to you tomorrow, but I guess you can open in now, since you're up."

He studied the box in her hands curiously. "What is it?"

"I can't tell you, silly." she replied. "It's a birthday present."`

"You already gave me a birthday present, Connie." he reminded her.

The girl lifted a brow. "A snog doesn't count as a present."

"The hell it doesn't." George said with a scoff. "I thought it was an awesome present."

Connie felt her cheeks grow warm. "That was payment because I knew this would be late." she said matter-of-factly. She readjusted the package in her arms and acted like she was going to walk off with it. "But if you don't want it, I can just give it to Fred. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

Before she could take even half a step, George's eyes widened and he grabbed her to make her stop.

"I never said that!" he protested, snatching the box away from her. "That's not even fair. I just wasn't expecting it, is all."

She figured he'd straighten up if she threatened to give his gift to someone else. They both sat down on the sofa and George began tearing through the brown paper wrapping. Once it was off and the lid of the box opened, he sat and stared at the simple rucksack laying inside.

"Uh..." he began, carefully clearing his throat. "It's... um... nice."

Constance made a face at him. "Try not to look so excited, George." When it looked like he was trying to figure out what he could say without hurting her feelings, she had to suppress a giggle. "Why don't you take it out and look inside of it before you decide you don't like it."

He wrinkled his nose at her words as he removed the bag from it's box. "I said it was nic... Whoa!" he gasped in suprise when he glanced inside. "Merlin's beard, you could fit a whole Quiddich pitch in here! What is this thing?"

"It's enchanted." Connie explained. "Mihnea and Luna invented a spell that increases the space inside of objects. When I found out about it, I asked them to make this for me. As long as it fits through the opening, you can put as much of anything you want inside of it. The bag will never be any heavier than it is now and the spell is undetectable, so no one will ever be able to tell it's not perfectly ordinary." she paused to take a breath. "I know how you have to keep all the stuff you work on hidden so your mother doesn't destroy it, and now that you and Fred have supplies again... well, I'd hate for you to have to start from stratch if something happened. This will help you keep everything safe."

George's eyes grew wider and wider with understanding as he listened to her explanation. When she finished, he took a long, deep breath and looked down at the rucksack in his lap.

"Wow." he said. "I think this might be the best present anyone's ever given me."

Constance blinked at him. It was touching that he said something so nice, but she couldn't resist the chance to tease him. "And there you were going on about how awesome the snog was. Doesn't that count for anything?"

He grinned at her. "Okay, so maybe it's the **second** best present." he admitted. He watched as she laughed at him, then cleared his throat. "So... you really think this is going to work? The joke shop thing?"

She had never heard him question the idea or show doubt about it before, so she was unsure how to take it. "Why wouldn't it?" she asked. "Isn't it what you've always wanted to do?"

"Well, yeah, but it seems like no one else takes it seriously." he said. "Everyone else thinks it's stupid or that we're just joking around. But you really think it could happen?"

Connie took a minute to work out exactly what she wanted to say. "I think that you and Fred can do anything you set your minds to." she said at last. "I think... maybe people don't see how serious you are because you're so famous for your pranks. But you are so much smarter than everyone gives you credit for. You guys come up with some really amazing things - like the ears - that no one else has ever thought of before. When it comes right down to it, most people spend all their lives trying to figure out what they want to do. You and Fred already know. So... I mean, I don't think it will be easy, but once you do get a store up and running, I think it's going to be amazingly successful because it's something you really love and are good at."

Her words seemed to perk him up a bit, but he still looked thoughtful. "And it's not going to be weird that the vampire hunter is dating the joke shop guy? 'Cause that just sounds... weird."

Constance gave him a light punch to the shoulder. "Will you shut up about that? Fun things are just as important as the serious ones. Who was it giving you all those tips on how to start a business? My daddy. It doesn't matter who you are or what you do, and if someone has a problem with it, they can go screw themselves."

George immediately burst out laughing. "You know, you can be really cute sometimes, but then you can turn as mean as a bulldog."

"I'm not **that** bad."

"Yes you are. It's adorable."

Connie hit him again. "Shut up, George."

* * *

><p>A.N: Guys, I am sorry for how long it's taken me to update, but I've had some pretty big life changes going on. My dad died back in October. I realize that it's been several months since then, but my dad never fully recovered from his heart transplant and I was pretty much taking care of him full time. He had a stroke, and I was the one who found him. This has hit me extremely hard. I was a daddy's girl and I always considered my dad to be my best friend. I don't know if I'll ever really get over losing him. When he died, it felt like a big part of me died with him. It was a bad time of year too, since there were so many holidays and birthdays in my family that came right after, so... yeah. It's been rough.<p>

Anyway, I'm writing this to let everyone know that I can no longer say when updates will be. This story, while it has its lighthearted, fun moments, is very dark. I usually try to get inside of characters' heads to explain what's going on internally when the dark stuff happens, and that is very difficult for me to do right now because it hits so much closer to home than it used to. I will say that I am working on the next chapter now. Depending on how long it winds up being, I may split it into two pieces. If that's the case, one will come out a few days after the other. Aside from that, I honestly don't know when the next update will be. All I can promise is that chapters will come out as soon as I finish them.

P.S: Just as an aside, while I love Hagrid to death, I write writing the way he talks. So if it doesn't sound right, please don't hate me.

P.P.S: I hate coming up with chapter names. Sometimes they're easy, and other times I have no idea what the hell to call something. So if one day I come out with a chapter titled 'Supercalifragilisticexpialid ocious Super Fun Times #&%$!' don't be surprised. -_-

With that out of the way, you guys are awesome readers and I appreciate all of you so much! Please leave a review if you liked the chapter (Or if you didn't like it. That's cool too.) and let me know what you think.


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